


For The Very First Time, For The Very Last

by BetsyByron



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bad Parenting, Charles in a Wheelchair, Charles is a Teacher, F/M, First Time, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Literary References & Allusions, Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mentions of Character Death, Nightmares, Nobility, Oral Sex, Paralysis, References to Death in Childbirth, References to Homophobia, References to Past Child Abuse, References to Suicide, Servants, Siblings, Time Skips, Violins, Wheelchairs, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England, 1914. Charles and Raven find themselves ahead of their lives, in a big house and a changing world. Abruptly set free of their abusive parents, they look for their place in the community, seeking friends and recognition. Cue garden parties, dark childhood memories and utter and complete disrespect of historically accurate social attitudes of the time.</p><p>Charles meets Erik, and his whole world topples upside down.</p><p>Inspired by Downton Abbey and other BBC dramas. In which Charles is a Lord and Erik a factory worker (and then soldier) and they both very much need to be loved. Set over several years, with gaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> I took the risk to set this in a vaguely historical frame, and I have to admit I did the minimum amount of research. Please read this for the relationships rather than for the historical details! I am very much aware the attitudes etc are unlikely, what with the conventions and thought patterns of then, but well. I had an idea for the first scene, and then I wrote over 30 000 words, I never thought it would be this long! Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> If I could draw there would be so much art to go with this. Feel free to contribute!

_Why are your libraries full of tears?_

_(Allen Ginsberg, “America”)_

 

The lawn was bustling with activity and laughter, kids running around and adults trying to pretend they were not having just as much fun. Cricket balls were flying without the slightest order, a group of children had talked a few grown men to play blind man’s buff with them, and the first embarrassment of many at having staff bring them food and drink was soon drowned in the delicious little cakes and sweet wine.

Nearly the whole village had responded to Raven’s invitation – the first of the sort. Charles was delighted for her. She had poured her heart into this garden party, the excuse being to celebrate the beginning of summer; the real reason being to try and show the inhabitants of the village they technically owned, since the land was still theirs, that Charles and her were nothing like they parents. People had been afraid of his late Lordship. More than one honest family had been kicked out of their homes for speaking out of place or simply occupying a spot Lord Xavier wanted to transform into a tailor shop, bringing the man from London so he didn’t have to travel every time he felt like a new suit. They had been cautious as they trickled in, gaped at the mansion, admired the rose garden – but they had warmed up to the good humoured atmosphere, and not least to the fact that Raven was absolutely charming. It was nearly impossible not to love her.

Charles was glad. While their parents were living, they had been all but tucked away from the real world, learning how to best behave with their own kind, answering to the strict etiquette, and the even stricter conception of who was worth their while, imposed by Lord Xavier. Now, sitting a little apart and watching the joyful breach of propriety going on that afternoon, he felt like maybe they still had a chance at a good life. He could get used to the noise, the directness, the company.

“You don’t like company?”

He turned to look at the man who had spoken, and his eyes widened a little. He was absolutely gorgeous. Dressed simply in light trousers and a white shirt, sweaty from the effort – Charles had already spotted his very nice figure pretending he knew anything about playing cricket – half a smile and shiny eyes.

“Oh, I do.” Charles answered, his mouth somehow dry. He couldn’t help it; he was irretrievably drawn to men’s bodies. It had started when he was first immobilized, unable to stand and run and jump; and he watched their legs, envying how they moved. It had taken him years to stop envying, a few more to realize he had stopped envying, and was looking at those legs in a very different way. Girls presented no interest to him – he didn’t think he would meet one lovelier than Raven. But the men. Those men who could walk, be in charge of their lives, be everything he couldn’t be. Charles watched them with amazement. He wanted to be them. Sometimes he just wanted _them_. And it scared him that anyone would see through him, would not mistake the yearning for envy like he had himself for so long. _What if he sees?_ Charles thought. He glanced around in almost panic, and spotted a carafe of lemonade on a nearby table. He extended his arm. “Would you like a drink?”

“By all means.” His grin couldn’t possibly contain more teeth.

There was an expectant pause, and then the man almost startled, and his grin faded – in fact his all demeanour changed a little. Charles was too focused on the hammering of his heart to really note it down. He wasn’t used to situations like that. How did one behave normally? He smoothed his trousers self-consciously, reminded that he wasn’t fit for social life in more ways than one.

The other looked at his gesture a bit oddly, and nodded in a resigned way.

“Ah, of course.” He said softly. “That’s not the way it works.”

He went to the table – Charles wondered if he had been waiting for him to pour him a drink, as the master of the house maybe? – and filled two glasses, one of which he handed to Charles.

“Thank you.” Charles said in a slightly strangled voice.

This man was too beautiful for his own good. Too beautiful for Charles to think of what to say next.  He already felt under scrutiny because of the hitch with the lemonade. Should he explain? He would have to admit he seldom poured his own drinks. He didn’t want to appear patronizing, or to make a display of his privileges, but on the other hand he had no idea what the other man’s life was like and what topics could perhaps interest him. Stick to what you’re sure of, he thought.

“I’m Charles.” He introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Erik.” The man shook it. He had large hands, the longest fingers and a firm grip. “Erik Lehnsherr.”

“Nice to meet you.” Charles said. It really was, he appreciated again.

“Well, it is all thanks to you.” Erik replied. “It’s an honour to tread your grounds.”

Charles missed the irony entirely.

“It was Raven’s idea.” He said. “All credit goes to her.”

“Yes, I’m sure you had nothing to do with this.”

Charles knew Raven needed to do things for herself. She needed approval, she needed to be recognized for her qualities, and she needed love. He didn’t want to take that away from her.

“I merely gave my consent to use the house.” He therefore said.

“I see.” Erik raised a brow. “People have to come to you.”

 _How does he know?_ Charles thought.

“Yes, I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”

Only then, seeing the scorn on the man’s face, did he realize that he didn’t, actually, know. And that the whole conversation had in fact been rather hostile from his part.

“Oh, no.” He tried to amend. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.” Erik interrupted. “That would be impolite, and God forbid a Lord could _possibly_ be impolite.”

“I’m-”

“I know the likes of you.” He wasn’t given a chance to explain. “You sit here, plastering a smile on your face so people will think you’re benevolent, but you don’t mingle, how disgraceful that would be. You couldn’t even get up to shake a few hands or throw a ball at the little ones? You arrange this kind of events to put on a game of pretend, entertain their illusions-” (he threw an arm back to indicate the crowd) “-and then go back to your precious life while we have to work sunrise to sunset to pay rent to you. Oh, I can just see tonight’s dinner. Good laugh eh? Will you give out a price to which one of us was the most inappropriately ill-mannered?”

“That is not why Raven organised this afternoon.” Charles defended. “I will not let you insult my sister.”

“Your sister is not the one I am insulting here.” Erik retorted.

Charles remained completely stunned for a few seconds. He felt like his faith in humanity has just shattered. He could see, of course, where the man was coming from. Relationships between lords and commoners were not exactly equal, and he personally knew a good number of nobles who needed to have their asses kicked and learn what hardship even meant. But he didn’t understand why this man, whom he was seeing for the first time in his life, who knew nothing about him, and who was so damn gorgeous, could express such hatred towards him.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips bitterly. “Well, it seems you have me all figured out.”

“You’re really not as sophisticated as you think.” Erik noted.

Charles purposely ignored the lump in his throat, and waved for a footman.

“George.” He asked gently. “I think I want to go back inside now.”

“Yes my lord.”

The footman darted towards the house, and Erik failed completely at repressing a snort.

“What?” He mocked. “Do you need the fire lit up before you set foot in your house or something?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I need.” Charles replied coldly. “And I also never enter a room unless the servants have carpeted the floor with rose petals.”

Erik shrugged.

“Anything could be possible with you people.”

Charles clenched his teeth, and forced himself to remain civil.

“I bid you farewell.” He said. “I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“And you too, my Lord.” Erik replied with little respect.

He didn’t budge. Neither did Charles.

“And what?” Erik reacted again after a moment. “Do you need someone to carry you inside?”

At this moment, George emerged back from the house pushing an empty wheelchair.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Charles answered. His could hear his voice almost break – but it didn’t. He wouldn’t give the man this satisfaction.

The shock and horror on his face as Charles locked his arms around George’s neck to be lifted up and lowered into the chair was almost satisfying enough to Charles, on the other hand. But it didn’t change what he had said. And it didn’t give Charles his legs back.

“The library, George, please.” He indicated to the young man. He turned briefly back to Erik, who was the image of consternation. “Good day, Mr Lehnsherr.”

*

Raven whirled in when it was dark outside and the last of their guests had gone. She had rosy cheeks, flowers in her hair and a smile that could light up an entire room.

“Charles!” She called for him. “Oh it was wonderful, you should have seen the little girls braiding my hair, they were so happy, and you missed the race, where did you-”

She stopped short as she entered the library and spotted her brother, and the melancholy in his face. There was only a small lamp, so she couldn’t see if his eyes were red, but she guessed. She came forward, knelt beside the chair and took his hand.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured. 

“Don’t be.” He smiled softly. “I’m really glad you had such an amazing day. I wish I could have taken part in your race.”

She gave him a painful smile. “What happened?” She asked.

She knew he would have stayed, even if it made him feel sad and filled him with regrets, because seeing her happy was worth all the injuries in the world. He had told her once. _I don’t care that I have to sit down for the rest of my life, just as long as you can run and jump and dance._ He wouldn’t have left until the balance between his misery and her happiness toppled down the wrong way.

“It became a bit too much when I was insulted for being idle and snobbish, sitting on the side like I was.” Charles explained sadly.

Raven paled. “What? Who said that?”

“A man.” _The_ man. “He didn’t know.” Charles defended him. “He’s probably had some bad experience with nobility before. I don’t think it was personal.”

He heard in his own voice how much he was trying to convince himself, and felt slightly pathetic. Raven half stood up and embraced him into a hug.

“I love you.” She whispered. “And you are the best man I know.” She stepped back, wiped a tear of her face and smiled down at her brother. “And now we’re in control of our lives, we will meet people, some we actually like and want to spend evenings with, and you will meet someone who sees that. I promise you, Charles.”

She leaned in again, placing a kiss on his forehead. Charles felt small, but grateful. She had become the older sibling almost fifteen years ago, taking care of him ever since his injury. The only person who had always kept believing in a future for him.

“I promise you.” She repeated.

*

Charles had expected a very quiet morning after the revels of the previous day, and was very surprised when his valet Mr Mason came into the library announcing there was a visitor for him. A man, not someone Mason recognized.

“Oh.” Charles looked down briefly at his legs, visibly too thin under the fabric of his trousers. He still wasn’t used to being his own man. He remembered how his father would ask a footman to sit him in an armchair when they had company for the evening or if someone called unexpectedly and they didn’t have time to usher him upstairs, crossing his legs for him so he could adopt a relaxed posture – something Charles found rather hard to achieve. A network of intricate and discreet moves and excuses was then usually put into place so Charles would magically be sitting at dinner, and then back to the drawing room, pretending he hadn’t needed any help in doing so. Charles and Raven never doubted nobody was fooled, but no-one ever said anything. Only close friends and family were privy to Charles’s actual condition.

He considered for a second asking Mason to call George to move him into an armchair, but he straightened himself into his wheelchair instead.

“Very well, let him in.”

Maybe he should have expected it; nevertheless when Erik Lehnsherr walked into the room after Mason, his heart jumped. The man bowed slightly as the valet left, closing the door behind him.

“My Lord.” Erik said. “I came to apologise for my disastrous behaviour yesterday.”

He looked up then, and couldn’t help but run a look around the whole room. He looked impressed, which pleased Charles somehow. This room was his life. His father had never had a passion for books, but he had let his son develop his freely – for want of being able to do anything else. He never used his father’s office, instead working and receiving most social calls in here.

“Some library.” Erik appreciated.

“Yes.” Charles smiled to himself, to his shelves. “I spend a lot of time here.”

“Not very outdoorsy are you?” The other man said, and winced instantly. “I did it again. I _am_ sorry, Lord Xavier.”

“Don’t...” That was his father’s name, his father’s shadow. “Please call me Charles.” He asked. “And I thank you for your apologies. You were certainly out of line yesterday, but in truth, you should be allowed to speak your mind.”

“It wasn’t against you.” Erik assured. “In all honesty, I dislike nobility, for personal reasons. But I do not know you, and I shouldn’t have attacked you the way I did. I didn’t know you were...” He winced.

“A cripple?” Charles filled in. “No. Father made sure I didn’t bring disgrace on the family, he took all the necessary precautions.”

“You weren’t born like this.” Erik remarked. “I remember seeing you in the village when you were a boy. One of the few times you ever set foot out of...”

He stopped himself, seeing how Charles looked down.

“It wasn’t by choice.” The latter murmured. “Mother was convinced the outside world contained all sorts of threats for us. There was a time she was so paranoid it took her a few weeks to allow any new staff to even _see_ Raven or me. Growing up, we came to feel more and more trapped. That afternoon, our governess had sneaked us out to the village fair at our insistence. It remains one of my fondest memories.”

“How old were you?” Erik asked.

“Eight.”

“I mean.” He amended. “When...”

Charles looked up, planting his eyes into Erik’s, and Erik felt washed over by something dark and cold. Charles looked haunted for a moment; then he blinked, and regained composure, but Erik could still see the memory of something vile lingering in the lines of his face.

“Eight.” He repeated gloomily.

“Oh.” Erik breathed. “Not long after the fair, then.”

“No, really not long.” Charles spoke carefully, as if the words could sting.

Which they probably did, Erik thought. But he couldn’t stop himself from pursuing the conversation.

“What happened?” He asked.

Charles could always refuse to answer. He chose not to. He had a small sad smile.

“Take a guess.”

Erik had no idea; he said the first thing that went through his head, although it clearly never was a good idea around Charles.

“Horse-riding accident.”

Charles sniffed half-amusedly.

“Of course, what other kind of trouble could a little Lord get himself in.” He said.

There was no acrimony in his tone, but Erik could see he was on edge. He could see he was about to tell him the truth about an accident that had nothing to do with horses, a truth he had never told anyone who didn’t already know before. Why? Why was he telling him? Was it a lesson for misjudging him? To show him that for all the benefits of his life, he knew what horror was? Because Erik only had to look at Charles’s face to be certain the tale he was going to hear was one of horror.

“It wasn’t a riding accident.” Charles refuted – not that Erik had expected to have it right. “You remember seeing me at the fair; I don’t know if you remember what I looked like. I was a frail child, not very tall, quite thin. I guess my bones weren’t very strong.”

Erik remained silent, arms crossed behind his back, feeling tense. The sadness drowning Charles’s eyes was a painful sight.

“We should never have gone out to the village.” The young man went on. “It wasn’t allowed. Of course the Governess was dismissed with the references you imagine; I don’t know if the poor woman ever found work again. But I was the eldest, I was the responsible one. Even if I hadn’t tried to defend Miss Griffith by saying it was my idea...well, at least I protected my sister. He didn’t lay a finger on her.”

Erik swallowed with difficulty.

“I’m guessing he laid more than a finger on you.” He said gently.

Charles nodded slowly.

“He hit me so hard my spine splintered.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and Erik could see him fight to keep his breathing even.

“I screamed and our butler of then intervened – he lost his place shortly after that as well. But it was too late, the doctor couldn’t do anything. Well, to be fair to him, he did wonders for the other injuries I sustained. But he was helpless once the spinal cord had been damaged. I haven’t been able to move my legs since.”

There was another moment of silence, broken by Erik’s soft voice.

“Charles...”

It startled him to hear his name spoken by a near stranger – although he _had_ asked him to use it.

“I am sorry for causing you more pain by my thoughtless hostility.” Erik said. “I would like to suggest something, for me to make amends, and I hope you will not think it out of place.”

“Please.” Charles encouraged him, curious.

“I work at the factory.” Erik exposed. “I’m good with metals, and I specialised since the demand for automobile parts went through the roof. What I’m saying is, your chair looks quite old and hard to manoeuvre. I could give you new wheels.”

Charles’s hands gripped on the arms of the chair. He had been spending whole days in it for fifteen years – it had been his father’s idea, of course, to procure him at once with an adult-sized chair, not seeing the point in spending twice the money. And while his upper body strength did not leave much to be desired, it was true he had been less and less able to circulate on his own for a few years, due to the rusting of the axle. Sometimes he imagined the whole thing eventually crumbling under his weight, eaten away by corrosion.

“You would build me a new chair?” Charles asked timidly.

It wasn’t something anyone had ever considered before. Raven had developed a passion for chairs of all kinds, spreading them around the house so Charles would always have something comfortable to be sat on, but she had never spared a thought for the one he could actually move with, probably imagining he would rather forget about it. And he loved the staff for helping him, several times a day, settle into one of Raven’s chairs, carrying him here or there, pushing his wheelchair – but they didn’t think much about his autonomy either. Erik was the first. The first to see right through his good-hearted patience and into his craving for freedom.

“Yes.” Erik replied simply. “I’ll use the alloys I’ve developed for the cars. They don’t rust. You’ll be able to visit your gardens, see your grounds, even if the weather isn’t dry. Maybe come down to the village more often.”

Charles looked down, touched. “I’d like that.” He said. “This is very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“It’s only fair after I’ve been so thoughtless.” Erik replied with a respectful nod of his head.

“Can I ask...” Charles hesitated.

He didn’t really need to finish his sentence. Erik had hoped he wouldn’t have to justify his prejudices, but he knew the question was very likely to be brought up.

“When I was a boy.” He explained. “I lived in Lord Shaw’s service. My mother was a kitchen maid in the main house, and I had a place in the stables near the hunting pavilion, at the far end of his grounds – he had an enormous estate. Lord Shaw was quite the passionate hunter. He was always looking for better ways to kill.” Erik made a pause, looking bleak. “He developed his own weapons, and in order to do that he...well, you could say he experimented on us, the stable boys. Then on me, mostly, because I was the only one not to jump a yard back when the riffle detonated. I had to do anything he asked of me. Throw dead animals in the air for target practice. Clean the weapons. Fire the new ones, the ones he had just built and wasn’t quite sure wouldn’t explode.”

He took a step forward, rolling his sleeve up a little and presenting his arm for Charles to see. The scar from a nasty burn barred the inside of his forearm.

“I think he saw something in me.” Erik went on as Charles winced. “Potential. I was his creature for a while; he wanted to make a hunter, even a warrior out of me. But there was only so much I could take, so eventually I ran away.” He licked his lips; his mouth was dry, his throat tightening. “He killed my mother.” He finished. “Made it look like an accident. Nobody believed it, but nobody said anything. Because he was a Lord. Because he organised big events to appear like a good man, like a man who was close to the common people, and he made sure to invite officials, and police forces, and to keep them happy.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Charles said sincerely. He understood better now why Erik could have been suspicious of Raven’s party. “Your mother obviously was very dear to you.”

It was almost a strange concept for him, but he understood. Not about his own mother. He imagined however what he would suffer if he lost Raven.

“She was.” Erik confirmed.

He paused, and they both felt like there was so much more to be said, and at the same time that it was quite enough at once. Erik was the one to decide to let it rest for now.

“I’ll take my leave now, Lord...Charles.” He corrected himself with a smile. “I hope you will forgive me for my unforgivable remarks. I can assure you none of them are earnest. I see now that you and your sister are quite different from what I imagined.”

“Please, Erik.” Charles smiled back. He felt a pleasurable shrill run down his spine. He could probably count the people he addressed by their first names on one hand. “You are entirely forgiven, my friend.”

“I will work on that chair.” Erik promised.

“I look forward to seeing you again.” Charles spoke with too much honesty, and too much eagerness for Erik not to notice.

He smiled. “As do I.”

*

“I don’t understand how you could have made friends with this horrible man.” Raven was utterly baffled by Charles’s account of his afternoon.

“He’s not a horrible man.” He brother protested. “He spoke from the heart, from the only, and truly dreadful experience he had of nobility. He never meant to hurt me, and he thoroughly apologized for his indelicacy.”

Raven had a pout, but then she spotted the expression on her brother’s face, the little tweak of a smile he was unable to hide. “Dear God.” She blurted out. “You like him.”

“Raven!” Charles protested.

“You do!” She exulted.

Since their father had authoritatively ruled out any hope for Charles to ever find a wife who would accept to marry the broken thing he was, they had never discussed the possibility  for him to ever like another person, man or woman – but somehow, from all the times in their childhood when they discussed Raven’s fantasies of gorgeous men who would whisk her away on a white horse (which could also pull Charles’s chair with a harness), she had known in her heart her brother did not dream of any girl saving him from his own life.

“Like our great uncle Richard and the hilarious tale of the second footman, remember old Finn’s stories?” Raven went on, chasing away memories tinged with too much sadness. “I know, I know, it is not an appropriate suggestion to make, and we shall never utter a word about it again for as long as we live. Possibly lock you in a dark room somewhere.”

“You know.” Charles replied in the same teasing tone – you have to laugh, or else you’ll cry. “I suspect Father wanted to do that more than once.”

“Dear God.” Raven repeated, with much less seriousness. “A cripple _and_ an inverted. God save us.”

“I’m afraid I’m a lost cause.” Charles smiled, sadness creeping back. “But I don’t want to ruin you. It’s not such a funny story when you remember Richard’s sisters could never marry because _he_ ran away with another man. Quite the scandal.”

“Times have changed.” Raven argued.

“Not enough. At any rate.” He added, trying to make it a joke. “There is no chance _I_ will run away anywhere. I guess I could roll away. I’m afraid the dramatic effect would be lessened in the process.”

Raven chuckled. “You’re an idiot. And trust me, if you find the man, you’ll find the way.”

Charles shook his head. “You’re sweet, Raven. But you know it will never be. What if I happened to like Erik in a way society doesn’t accept? He’s not going to feel the same way about me. And even if he did, what then? We can never be together. Not if it means you’re going to get shunned along with me by everyone it scandalizes. Which will be everyone.”

“Charles.” Raven said plaintively. “I want you to be happy.”

“And I will never forfeit your happiness for mine.” Her brother replied. “You have spent too many of your years looking after me. You are the mistress of your own life now. Marry the man your heart will lead you to, and be happy.”

“What if I don’t want to marry?” Raven decided to act stubborn.

“Of course you do.” Charles smiled. “You like the future way too much. You want children, and grandchildren. Most of all you want love. Our parents never gave us much of that, did they.”

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing tight.

“I have your love.” She said.

“You know it’s not the same.”

She smiled sadly, and didn’t say anything, but he could read it in her face. The same went for him. All he had was his sister’s love. And when she married, he would only have part of her time and attention, even if her love for him would never falter. And if he didn’t find his own love, he would spend the rest of his life alone, taken care of by people who were, sure, entirely and heart-warmingly devoted to him, but still living on his wages. Charles squeezed his sister’s hand back, and made sure the mask was in place, even managing a smile for her. He would never tell Raven, but he had resigned to this fate years ago.

*

These days, reading the papers seemed exhausting to Charles. Every time at breakfast, he closed his eyes for a moment, resting his hands on the words on the table, as if emptied by the news. Raven could only understand. Prospects of war. Secretly, she was glad her brother was safe; but she knew it would hurt him to see every young man of his generation get up for King and country while he could do nothing but sit in his grand home and hear of their victories and their deaths.

“If it comes to this...” He said softly one morning. “If it comes to war. We have to put every resource we have to help. The grounds, the house, any money we can spare. To care for the soldiers, for their families. Help the war effort in the factories.”

He thought of Erik, and his throat tightened. Erik was a solid young man. He would not keep working in the factory if war was declared; he would go to the battlefield. Charles closed his eyes again.

“We’re not there yet.” Raven said tenderly, saying what he was thinking. “But yes, Charles. We will not hide away from anything. We will not be like Mother and Father.”

“My Lord, my Lady?” Mason appeared at the door. “Mr Lehnsherr is here asking to see you, my Lord.”

Charles’s eyes widened. It had only been two days since Erik’s last visit. He couldn’t possibly have built the new wheelchair yet. Surely there was something wrong, he was coming to retract his offer, to say it couldn’t be done.

“I’ll take you.” Raven announced, seeing that her brother was frozen. “Let him in to the parlour, Mason, thank you.”

“Yes my Lady.”

Affectionately, Raven ran her fingers through Charles’s hair to try and rule them down – to little avail – and straightened his necktie. “I’m sure everything is fine.” She said, bending down to kiss his cheek. “He will tell you when you can have the chair you deserve.”

“What if-”

“Tut.” Raven interrupted him. She pushed the chair all the way down the parlour, where Erik was waiting; he bowed his head when they entered.

“My Lady. My Lord.”

Charles could not control the smile that stretched his lips. Raven did not miss it. Her heart tightened a little for her brother. He was falling in love with this man, hard and fast, and she didn’t know how that would end. She hoped so deeply that he could be happy.

“Mr Lehnsherr.” Charles greeted the man enthusiastically, yet with all the propriety in the world. “It’s a pleasure to see you again so soon. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes.” Erik smiled. “You can try your new chair.”

He stepped to his side, gesturing to the object. Charles all but gaped. It was an all-steel chair, gleaming in the sun that came through the window. The seat and back were cushioned and covered with simple cream linen, and it looked comfortable without being impractical.

“Erik.” Charles breathed. “It’s beautiful. Is it really ready?”

“I worked two whole nights after work.” Erik confirmed.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Charles said, embarrassed. “You shouldn’t have, there really was no rush.”

“It was no trouble.” Erik smiled. “You must be starting to get this about me. I’m as quick in my actions as in my words. Sometimes to unfortunate consequences.”

“And sometimes not.” Charles smiled down at the chair.

“Go on then.” Raven encouraged him. “Try it.”

She turned to call for George, but Erik opened his arms questioningly. “May I?” He suggested.

Charles tensed, imperceptibly to Erik, visibly to Raven. “Thank you.” He said nonetheless, lifting his arms slightly so Erik could help him up.

Raven stepped back to let Erik slip his arms around her brother, and lift him up his chair to transfer him in the other. She watched the gentleness with which he handled him, the perfect positioning of his arms – one around Charles’s back, one under his knees – and the way his hand reached up to cradle Charles’s head in the unlikely event it bumped against the frame of the chair as Erik lowered him down. Charles released the breathe he was holding, and placed his hands on his knees as if he had to struggle to keep them still.

“Comfortable?” Erik enquired, sounding less confident now.

“Very.” Charles appreciated. He started exploring his new means of transportation. The armrests and feet-rests were exactly adjusted to his limbs, with no sharp angles, like the chair had been moulded on him. “This is remarkable.” He praised.

Then he put his hands on the wheels, and pushed with the same force he had to use when he wanted to go anywhere himself in his old chair. He was propelled forward with unexpected speed and smoothness, almost colliding with Raven, who jumped on the side and burst into laughter.

“Careful.” Erik warned good-humouredly. “It’s more responsive than what you’re used to.”

“Yes.” Charles half-laughed too. “I can see that.” He tried the wheels a little longer, going back and forth across the parlour, appreciated the ease with which he could change directions. “And it’s so silent!” He exclaimed after half a dozen returns. “I might be able to go from my room to the library without waking the whole household from the screeching now. I get insomnia.” He told Erik.

“That’s why he’s so insufferably clever.” Raven noted. “He reads those books day and night.”

“Raven.” Charles sighed. “Don’t pay attention to her.” He told Erik.

Erik just smiled, but it was a useless instruction, Raven thought. The man had no attention to spare for anyone and anything but Charles, apparently. In fact, she realized, apart from a few polite glances her way so as not to appear like he ignored her, he had kept his eyes fixed on her brother the whole time. She didn’t know whether to feel glad about that or not. But if Erik liked Charles half as much as Charles liked Erik, knowing that they had met three days ago and hadn’t even been friendly to each other that long, then it was love, the kind you find in the fairy tales her nurse Clarice used to read her in secret. And Raven knew she wouldn’t rest until she found something to do about it. Well, if anything, she could give them some time together for a start.

“Why don’t you try the park?” She suggested. “Get used to the chair. The weather is beautiful. I have to speak to Mason about summer arrangements, but I’m sure Mr Lehnsherr can accompany you?”

“Oh no.” Charles protested modestly. “I don’t want to take any more of your time.”

“Again, it was no trouble at all.” Erik assured. “And I’ll join your with pleasure, if you will tolerate my company.”

“It is most welcome.”

Raven almost sighed out loud. The chemistry was undeniable between those two, and they were blind if they didn’t suspect their mutual attraction. She watched them head out, Charles rolling himself forward with delight, Erik walking by his side pleasingly, one hand resting on the back of the chair. Raven didn’t think she had ever seen a picture that felt so right. She took a decision.

*

They walked – and rolled – for a while without speaking, Charles obviously revelling in the new sensations of the chair around him, and Erik keen to let him have his moment. Nevertheless, he eventually broke the silence.

“There is something I didn’t mention the other day.” He said. “About why I was so aggressive to you when we met. I didn’t want to offend you.”

“And you want to offend me now?” Charles teased.

“No.” Erik smiled. “But now I believe you will not be so easily offended. You called me your friend. You offered me your story, and you heard mine; I’m sure this kind of intimacy entirely breaches etiquette.”

“I have had quite enough of etiquette, if you must know.” Charles assured. “Now, tell me.”

“I found you beautiful.” Erik revealed.

Charles breath caught in his throat, but he managed not to let it show.

“Intolerably beautiful.” Erik went on. “And...Lord Shaw was extremely charismatic, and he fooled me at first because of that. I was drawn to his person, I was seduced, I wanted to please him – and you know where it got me. And when I saw you, so dangerously attractive... I didn’t want to be seduced by someone like him again.”

“Or someone like me.” Charles noted.

“You’re nothing like him.” Erik retorted vehemently.

Charles chuckled, and they continued in silence for another while, heading back towards the house slowly.

“And now?” Charles stopped, waiting for Erik to stand still and look at him. “I’m not trying to seduce you, of course.” He said cheekily. “But what if I was?”

Erik shot him a bright smile – the one with too many teeth.

“You might succeed, Charles.” He said smoothly. “You might succeed.”

*

Raven was quiet at dinner. It happened sometimes, when she had something on her mind. Charles did not press her. He knew it was likely to be a matter she did not want to discuss in any of the staff’s presence. Sure enough, when they retired to the library – Charles liked to spend his evenings there when it was just the two of them, sometimes sweet-talking his sister into playing chess with him – she sat beside him and took his hand.

“Charles, I had an idea.” She said.

“Is it a good one?” Charles asked gingerly.

“I want to marry Erik.” Raven let out.

Oh. It wasn’t, then, Charles thought. He blinked at his sister. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Charles, you must have noticed his attentions towards you. I’ve never seen anything like that, you two _clicked_ together the minute you met – well, maybe the day after that. Although an argument could be made for the minute, honestly, you sure felt strongly about him at first sight, and even if he turned that into aggression, so did he. Anyhow. What I’m saying is you look meant for each other, truly, and it’s not fair you should be prevented from happiness by the fact that you are both men. So I’ll marry Erik. And we can live together, the three of us, and you’ll be with him.”

“Raven.” Charles whispered, moved and astonished. “No.”

“Think about it.” She pleaded. “It’s the only way.”

“No.” Charles repeated, cupping his sister’s cheek in his hand, looking her in the eyes. “Even if you’re right about Erik, even if he wanted to be with me, I will never let you trap yourself in a charade for the rest of your life. Not for my sake, not for anyone or anything’s sake.”

“Charles...”

“Raven, this is not a negotiation.” Charles said more firmly. “I will be happy developing a friendship with Erik to the furthest possible extent. You will find a man you love, who loves you, and you will marry him. You will have children, and grandchildren, who will inherit the estate one day when I’m gone. I love you for even suggesting such a sacrifice, but it will never happen. Do you understand?”

Raven looked town, eyes welling up with tears. “I understand.” She whispered. “But I...Charles, if only one of us can be happy, it should be you. You went through so much, you still endure so much day after day...”

“And I can keep enduring it.” Charles said. “Especially in this dazzling new chair.” He added with a smile. “And don’t think only one of us can be happy, Raven. I’ll be happy if you are.”

“So will I!”

“Yes.” He smiled again, and kissed her forehead. “But I can never marry the man I love, and I can never have children. You can. So find him. Bring back children’s laughs into this house. God knows it needs some.”

Raven nodded, smiling a little sadly.

“Do you love Erik?” She asked after a moment.

“I don’t know what love is.” Charles answered quietly, thoughtful. “Except the one I have for you, and what I read in books. But...I certainly feel something for him I’ve never felt for anyone before.”

“Then I hope he feels the same about you.” Raven said. After a pause, she added: “You know, I have met some great people from the village the other day. Let’s make some real friends, Charles. Let’s invite them over again.”

“Of course.” Charles approved. He took a deep breath in. “It’s been almost three months. Time to find our place in the world without them.”

Raven looked down.

“Is it bad that I am thankful for a train accident?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“After what they did to us?” Charles replied. “No, it isn’t.”


	2. Golden Afternoons

_You be the words, I’ll be the rhyming_

_(Edward Sharpe, “That’s What’s Up”)_

 

The night they first gathered their new friends was an absolute success. It was a small party, just five guests so they could keep a limited service; Charles and Raven didn’t think their new acquaintances would be comfortable having an army of staff tending to a whole roomful of people. Erik was there of course, sitting or standing next to Charles the whole time, looking at him with a warmth that melted Raven’s heart, yet showing a natural politeness that made him drag a little attention from Charles-and-only-Charles every once in a while. They had invited Lady Moira, the only real friend they had made over the years, a fragile little thing when she was a child, who had grown into a feisty young woman. Their parents had wanted to marry her to Charles, and Moira’s poor father, a man without any character whatsoever, would have accepted anything Lord Xavier decided. Charles and Moira were good friends, and her parents loved him and would have been honoured to have him as a son-in-law whatever his condition, but still they knew in their hearts that it was not the match that would fulfil either of them, and they had all agreed to call off the tacit engagement after the Xaviers’ death. Moira was mostly self-raised, and seemed to find it delightful to lie back and hang out with people who had no idea what etiquette even was and thus couldn’t bother her with it. She talked extensively with Simon, one of Raven’s new acquaintances. He worked at the town hall, and had hard-set political views Moira found extremely entertaining – the way he applied himself to woo her may have had a part in her interest for his opinions. Raven had also asked over two actors from the local theatre – actually, she was only just discovering they were actors, performing the title roles in _Romeo and Juliet_ at the moment; at the garden party, they had made friends over a heated discussion about this blooming novelty that was the cinematograph.

“Sean is in fact a talented singer.” The girl Angel explained after diner, when they were all enjoying a drink in the music room. “And what I love most is dancing. But that doesn’t really pay the rent, so Shakespeare it is. We’ve earned ourselves a good reputation now, and we tour for selective audiences. Those Lords and Ladies don’t want vaudeville.”

Just as Charles had expressly asked Erik to use his first name, Raven was so easygoing and accessible that she had been able to make everyone feel like equals; Angel didn’t even consider her as being in fact one of “those Ladies”.

“I’m glad it works well.” Raven smiled. “I’ll come and see the play. But I would love to see you in some vaudeville one day too!”

“For you, anytime.” Angel laughed.

“Not now though.” Sean protested. “It must be the first time I’m inside this sort of house without being the night’s entertainment.”

“Speaking of which.” Charles intervened. He waved an arm around him. “Music room.” He said maliciously.

“Oh, no.” Raven shook her head. “Don’t make me.”

“You play?” Sean asked excitedly. “What do you play?”

“What doesn’t she play.” Moira teased. “Raven is a multi-talented musician.”

“I hate music.” Raven protested.

Sean gasped.

“How can you hate _music_?” He asked, only half feigning shock.

“Try being forced to practice four hours a day every day for fifteen years.” Raven said gloomily. “One hour piano, one hour violin, one hour oboe, one hour harp. I was hardly four years old the first time I laid my hands on each of those instruments. Every, single, day, for fifteen years. Squeezed in between singing, dancing, and the rest of my general education. Oh, I’m very accomplished indeed. I was _tortured_ into accomplishment.”

“At least our parents believed you could achieve something.” Charles said softly.

Sadness flashed across Raven’s face for a second, but then smiled at Charles, the soft smile of fond memories.

“I did come to love the violin.” She amended. “When Charles started writing music for me.”

“You write music?” Erik picked up, impressed, again looking at Charles like he was the most wonderful thing he’d seen in his life.

“It’s better than sad poetry.” Charles joked.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t also do that.” Moira retorted, ruffling his hair.

Charles scowled, and combed his hair with his fingers, making a bigger mess of things.

“Please play something?” Angel tried, taking Raven’s arm to better bat her eyelashes at her, comically pleading.

Raven started pouting, but Charles wheeled forward and towards a violin case resting on a shelf at the perfect height for his reach.

“I’ll play with you.” He said.

“Oh.” Raven let out, eyes widening. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Charles confirmed, opening the case and taking the instrument out. “It has been a while, but I could never forget this piece. It’s the only thing I ever wrote for two violins.” He explained to the others. “We wanted to surprise our parents, they had no idea I even ever touched a musical instrument, I taught myself with Raven’s help whenever they left us alone in the house. Which was often. And we played together for Christmas. Wrong move.”

“Charles.” Raven interrupted him in a warning tone.

“No, they can hear the story.” Charles replied softly. “Please don’t get me wrong.” He said to everyone. “I don’t want to demonize our parents, I’m not trying to trigger pity and I’m not prone to feeling sorry for myself. But I believe in the history of things. Consider this as a simple anecdote; it could as well be a funny one. This music is not the same now as it was when we first played it, and it’s something I want my friends to know.”

He emphasized, ever so slightly, the word _friends_. Erik squeezed his shoulder briefly, and left his hand there. Moira nodded like she understood. Sean and Angel looked at each other, remembering an old common experience maybe.

“What happened?” Simon asked for everyone.

“Father saw red.” Charles explained. “He could lose his temper very quickly, for the smallest reasons sometimes. He asked how did I dare touch his violins without his permission, and what had possessed us to play such a depressing tune for _Christmas_. Then he shattered the violin on my legs.” He winced. “I didn’t feel anything, of course, but I could still _see_ the shard of wood jabbed in my thigh.”

“Mother fainted.” Raven recalled. “And it was the first time I came between Father and anything he wanted to do, when he raised his arm again to hit Charles.”

“Then it became our resistance tune.” Charles remembered with a conniving smile. “Every time we felt close to suffocation, we would sneak the violins out, somehow make it to the other end of the park, and play under the willow tree. We had to stop when I was about eighteen, when Father redesigned the gardens and added _steps_.”

“Your old man sounds like he had such a charming personality.” Sean commented. “Play the resistance tune!” He then cried with enthusiasm.

“You know, I do believe it is very appropriate indeed.” Raven beamed. “After all, having you all here tonight is among the most insulting things I can imagine doing to our parents’ memory. I personally have no problem whatsoever demonizing them. They were evil. We shall destroy their legacy entirely.”

She said that in such a way everyone laughed. Raven gathered her own violin, and both siblings tuned their instruments while the others found someplace to sit – except for Erik, who remained standing next to Charles chair, only leaning against the grand piano.

“I should warn you though.” Raven said when they were ready to begin. “It is a rather sad tune.”

“Like I said.” Charles added humorously. “It was this or dark poetry.”

Then silence fell, and when they started playing, the smiles died on the faces.

Charles went first, a slow melody, supported by a softer note Raven held. The second violin answered, repeating the tune a tone lower while the first held the note. The bows answered each other on the strings, the tunes entwined and danced together, supporting and chasing one another, in faultless harmony and paced so perfectly it was as if one single player with four hands made both instruments sing at the same time. The music spoke of love and sorrow, of happy memories and painful times, of hopes and regrets. It was short, and contained the world. Charles and Raven’s world. When they stopped, they looked at each other like they would never be apart.

Moira wiped a tear off her face and was the first to break the silence that followed.

“Charles and Raven Xavier.” She said, her voice slightly gruff. “You have to stop being so damn perfect.”

It had the merit of lightening the mood, as all broke into a brittle laugh, still a little shaken by the raw emotion just drawn from the strings of the violins.

“Thank you.” Angel said, taking Raven’s arm again, clearly moved. “This was very intimate. And so very beautiful.” She turned to Charles. “You have talent.”

“I don’t know if I could produce something like this today.” Charles said unassumingly. “I haven’t written music in forever. Not since Mother started controlling every single note Raven played. We weren’t left alone so much after her first season.”

“Wait.” Simon frowned. “How old were you when you wrote this?”

“Thirteen.” Charles admitted. “What?” He said defensively when Simon rolled his eyes and Sean sniggered affectionately. “I had to find outlets for all the youthful energy squeezed in just half my body.”

“Oh.” Simon sobered up instantly. “Sorry. I thought your...condition was more recent. Forgive me, I assumed by how modern your chair was.”

“Yes.” Charles smiled, turning to Erik. “I have just replaced it.”

*

When Erik, last to go, had disappeared at the end of the alley – he was walking back to his house, in spite of Charles’s insistence to let his chauffeur drive him with Sean and Angel (Moira was giving Simon a lift on her way home) – and the butler, Mr Hanley, had closed the door and retired to let the relevant staff know it was time for bed, Raven jumped and squealed in delight like she was a little girl again.

“Oh Charles, it was wonderful!” She was glowing. “I’m sorry, I love you more than I could ever say, and I thought I needed nobody else but you, but I was so _wrong_! Friends.” She said with wonderment. “Real, honest, friendly friends!”

“Yes.” Charles laughed. “Friendly friends.”

“I mean, nobody imposed them to us.” Raven said. “We chose them. Because we liked them. And they accepted us because they liked us. It’s such a simple act, it should be so natural, and yet I feel more freedom than ever in my life.”

“We missed out so much.” Charles confirmed. “But if tonight was any indication, it’s not too late. This can still be a good life.”

“Yes.” Raven beamed. “Oh, and I was thinking.” She added. “We should hire a second footman.”

“Do you think?” Charles raised a brow. “We don’t need much.”

“We don’t. But the house is huge, and if we start making a habit of receiving... Hanley is getting old.” She lowered her voice. “I think he could use the extra help. We have a small staff, we can afford it. I know Father always said we couldn’t, that he needed this money to modernise the estate and whatnot, but I looked into it; I’m sure he actually didn’t hire more people because no-one wanted to work for him. But that shouldn’t be the case anymore.”

She clapped her hands, her face lightening up with an idea.

“We could even offer a position as a first footman; that will make it more attractive.” She suggested. “And George can become under-butler. He earned it.”

“It’s a good idea.” Charles appreciated. “George has taken such excellent care of me over all these years.” Although Mason was Charles’s personal valet, he himself had an arm he could barely move from a severe joint infection some years past that had left him diminished – and so it was George who did the heavy-lifting, as Charles phrased it. “We’ll tell him and Hanley in the morning. Here is Mason – Kitty must be waiting for you in your room, go. Sleep well, Raven. Sweet dreams.”

“Of other days like this day.” She completed with a smile. She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Charles.”

*

Charles was completely new to holding interviews for hiring new staff, but there was an easy line he could draw: the way the young men first reacted to seeing him in a wheelchair, and the way they addressed him for the rest of the meeting. Some of them were shocked, unable to treat him like a man, taking every precaution they could think of in order not to offend him. Others behaved in the exact opposite fashion, everything in their demeanour showing clearly that they thought it would be a complete pain to take care of him. Exhausted by a dozen such interviews, Charles perked up when the next applicant greeted him with:

“Good morning, my Lord. Wow, this is one hell of a wheelchair. Oh, excuse my language. My father lost his leg when he was working on the train tracks, you see, and he decided he was against wheelchairs, the old fool. Sorry for mentioning train tracks, my Lord.” He added. “My condolences for your parents.”

Charles remained a little astounded for a few seconds, impressed by the speed of the young man’s delivery.

“Thank you.” He said. “Let’s see, hum, do you have experiences and references?”

“Experience, yes my Lord, but I’m afraid I didn’t leave my previous employment with good references.” The boy confessed.

“What happened?” Charles enquired.

“I worked for five years as a second footman for the Stanfords, I was almost appointed first footman, but there was a...an incident. The young Lord Stanford approached a maid who really did not return his affections, if you see what I mean, and I somewhat...punched him in the face. You imagine the velocity with which I was sacked.”

Charles let out a stunned laugh, immediately pursing his lips at the impropriety of the sound.

“What’s your name?” He asked the man.

“Alexander Summers.” He replied.

“Well Alexander Summers.” Charles repeated. “Would you like to be appointed first footman here? No punching should be necessary.”

“Uh.” Alex blinked. “Really?”

“You have the experience, you have earned the promotion.” Charles said. “I personally praise the gesture you made in defence of your friend, should the offender be the King of England himself. And your duties will include tending to me, something for which I’m sure your practice with your father shall help.”

“I can already tell you you’ll be a lot less trouble, my Lord.” Alex said in earnest.

Charles smiled. “I appreciate your heart and your honesty, Alexander. You will answer to our butler Mr Hanley, and our newly appointed under-butler George – Mr Cleaves, now. He will show you the ropes to help you find your bearings. Mr Mason is my personal valet, but he cannot help me out of this chair for his bad arm, so I will require you or Cleaves, according to your other duties at a given moment, to assist me for a number of things which Cleaves will give you the details of.”

Alex nodded.

“Now.” Charles went on. “There is one thing I would like to say myself before I leave you to competent hands. We have lived too long in this house in fear of a faux pas. The late Lord and Lady Xavier, God rest their souls, were not soft-hearted people, and this estate was a cold place to live. My sister and I are trying to build a home now, and I hope you will feel at home with us. Do not hesitate to bring any matter to my attention, whether professional or personal if you think I can be of any assistance.”

Alex bowed his head. “I will remember that, my Lord. I hope to serve you well. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Your friend, the maid.” Charles had a sudden thought. “What happened to her? I dare hope she did not stay in the Stanfords’ employment?”

“No my Lord.” Alex said, surprised and pleased at the concern in Charles’s voice. “Her aunt works in London, and she found a place for her.”

“Good.” Charles nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you to your new duties. I’ll tell Hanley to dismiss the other candidates. Welcome, Alexander.”

“If you don’t mind, my Lord.” Alex bowed with a grin. “I prefer Alex.”

*

It was a glorious summer. Charles and Raven made fast friends, true friends, with Sean, Angel and Simon – let alone Erik, whom Charles loved a little more deeply every day spent in his company – and Moira found herself the perfect addition to their group, a stamp of approval from their own world in a way, one they didn’t need but which was still welcome in comparison to the pitiful or even hostile glances they got from other acquaintances.

On one particularly warm afternoon, they all decided to go down to the lake – a pond, Raven protested humbly – near the little wood still on Xavier grounds. Sean, Angel and Raven were in the water and splashing each other like kids in less time than it takes to say it, while Simon and Moira elected to lie down in the sun first, head deep in a conversation about the place of women in society. Erik spread another blanket on the grass beside Charles, who smiled fondly at him.

“Please.” He said. “Don’t mind me if you want to go for a swim.”

“Not now.” Erik smiled back. “Look what I brought.”

He opened his bag, and produced a folding chess board, pieces rumbling inside and cascading down on the blanket when he opened it.

“I noticed the board in your library.” He explained. “This one is not as beautifully crafted, but it’s convenient.”

“Erik, this is such a great idea!” Charles exclaimed, touched by his friend’s thoughtfulness. He had fully expected to read half their time here so as not to trap Erik or anyone else into feeling duty-bound to converse with him.

“I hope you are up to the challenge.” Erik grinned. “Because I take a little pride in my proficiency at chess.”

“Well then.” Charles smirked back. “Let the best man win.”

“Here, let me help you.” Erik offered his arms.

Charles’s smiled faded, as he realized the logistics would be slightly more complicated than they appeared.

“Oh.” He said. “Uh. That’s why you asked me if I could sit up the other day. I can indeed get myself out of bed and the like, but I’m afraid I can’t hold a sitting position for very long without back support.”

“Oh.” Erik echoed him. He frowned, turning his head up and down, as if he was imagining the different possibilities – from the way he looked over at Charles, he considered using his lap as a table for a moment. “Well.” He said in the end. “I’ll be your back support.”

Charles’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Would it be okay if you sat against me?” Erik pictured. “And we’ll put the board between our legs.”

Charles blinked twice, swallowed, and nodded. Erik scooped him up, just like he had done the time he’d brought the new chair, and lowered him down to the blanket. Without letting him go, he positioned himself behind him, sitting them next to the scrambled chess pieces, settling Charles against his chest, cheek brushing his cheek – Charles felt his skin grow hot. Erik then flung one leg on the other side of the board, and gently took Charles’s leg and placed it next to his.

“Is it okay?” He asked.

“It’s perfect.” Charles said, hoping Erik did not notice how strangled his voice was. For the first time in his life, he was actually glad it took a _lot_ for his body to show arousal.

They reached for the pieces together and set up the game, black on the left, white on the right.

“Your move.” Erik offered.

Charles pushed a white pawn forward, and so they began. Erik won the first game after a very close match – Charles should have won, given the way it had started, but he might have been more than a little distracted by the way Erik’s arm brushed against his waist every time he moved a piece, by the way his breath tickled his neck, by the way he spoke right in his ear, in a soft and deep voice.

“Rematch!” Charles demanded when Erik flicked his king over.

“I’m boiling.” Erik argued otherwise. “Do you want to swim?”

Charles frowned, surprised at the question. “I can’t.” He pointed out.

“I’ll hold you.” Erik said. “And the water will support your weight. Don’t be scared.” He added with a smile, feeling Charles getting agitated against him.

“I’m not scared.” Charles defended, little short of panicking.

Even before he was paralysed, he had been a terrible swimmer. He was always afraid something would grab him from the depths of the water – and even now that he was too old to believe in such things, the idea to be unable to kick back at anything, at the water itself, was harrowing.

“I will not force you if you don’t want to.” Erik said soothingly. “But it would be agreeably refreshing, don’t you think?”

Charles didn’t want to. But in Erik’s arms, he would do anything, so he agreed. He removed his shirt – he had put on a swimsuit like the others, to participate to the mood as far as he could (not thinking it would actually be this far) – and Erik did the same, before he lifted him up in his arms again, and carried him to the water. Charles held on to him a little more tightly than usual, which only seemed to amuse Erik. He waded forward until he had water up to his waist – Charles’s feet  and backside were dipping in already – and started lowering him down; only to get almost strangled as Charles climbed back up, arms clutching around his neck like it was a pit of fire beneath him. Erik laughed, and walked deeper into the lake, until he could let go of Charles’s legs in a way he felt safer. He still held on to Erik, water to their shoulders, and let out a shaken laugh.

“What did I tell you?” Erik beamed. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Don’t let me go.” Charles answered, not over-confident.

“I won’t.” Erik answered. Charles’s heart missed a beat. He wouldn’t have said _Never_ in a different tone. “Here.” Erik unlocked Charles’s hands, turned his back to him and replaced them on his shoulders. “Hang on to me, we’ll swim.” Without another warning, Erik went for it, propelling himself with a swift, strong swing of his arms. Charles gripped his shoulders for dear life, not entirely convinced it wouldn’t leave finger-shaped bruises.

“Charles!” Raven’s shrill voice broke the charm, and they weren’t alone in the world anymore. “You’re swimming!”

She waddled towards them with an impossibly happy smile, and Charles could not wish her away for all Erik represented.

“That’s saying much.” He laughed. “Erik is doing all the work I’m afraid.”

Erik swam the rest of the distance to meet Raven, and Charles moved between them, keeping one hand on Erik’s shoulder, wary not to tire him, and placing the other on Raven’s.

“Is it nice?” She asked, with the slightest hint of worry she couldn’t seem to ever shake off.

“It’s rather strange.” Charles confessed. “I’m not overly fond of water. But it’s refreshing. And Erik’s got me.”

“Yes.” Erik confirmed, claiming Charles back by pulling him away from his sister slightly until he locked his arms around him again. “I’ve got you.”

*

Charles was back against Erik’s chest, feeling too much like he belonged there, as Raven had convinced everyone to stay over for a picnic dinner – it was still warm even as the sun sunk down slowly. The servants had good-humouredly set everything up on a large linen spread, and were having their own party on another blanket a few meters away, at Charles’s invitation. Everyone felt like summer and happy times that would last forever. Charles abandoned himself completely against Erik, finding himself not caring what anyone would think about this kind of poorly commendable behaviour, and relished in the gentle press of Erik’s arms on his sides. He couldn’t be sure, because the combination of the day’s sun and the evening’s wine had dimmed his senses, but he thought Erik held him more tightly than was strictly necessary.

When it became too dark to distinguish each other, Raven suggested they went back inside to play cards. They settled for a 5-player variant of French tarot after Charles and Erik announced they had a decider chess game to play – Charles had won the rematch after they’d come back onshore and dried a little in the sun – and would retire to the library.

Erik closed the door behind them, muffling the sound of the others’ laughter. He gazed around him with a smile.

“I still have a hard time believing this.” He said thoughtfully. “I work at the factory six days a week, so full of sound and fury, and then there is this. Here. You. And to say I insulted you the first time we met, and I am now invited into your house like I belong there.”

“You do.” Charles answered quietly. “You’re my friend. Forget the misgivings of first impressions. They’re not important now.” He shivered. “I’m cold.” He smiled. “I miss your heat wrapped around me.”

Erik’s breath hitched. “Don’t say things like that.” He said with a tense smile.

Charles noticed his hands tighten into fists. He noticed the intensity of his gaze, pupils wide. He noticed his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Oh, he realized, breath catching in his throat too. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one feeling consumed by lust half the afternoon.

“Remember what I said about not trying to seduce you?” He said.

“Yes?” Erik tensed even more.

“How am I doing?” He asked, licking his lips.

“You’re failing.” Erik replied – and in an instant, he was leaning over Charles, framing his face with both hands and pressing his lips to his.

Charles gasped and Erik slipped his tongue in as his mouth opened, tracing the curve of his palate, tugging on his lower lip, drawing a small whimpering sound from Charles that went straight to his groin. He broke for air, panting, and pressed his forehead’s to Charles’s.

“I have never been...I have never felt...Oh Hell, Charles Xavier, what are you doing to me?”

“Nothing you’re not doing to me.” Charles whispered. “Good God, I have wanted you from the second I laid eyes on you. I thought I could be satisfied with your friendship but if you’re-”

Erik cut him short with another kiss, kneeling next to the chair and pulling Charles down to him. Charles knotted a hand in Erik’s hair, whining softly against his mouth, until Erik broke the kiss again, letting out a desperate sound.

“I can’t go on like this for much longer.” He said. “I’m, uh, getting uncomfortable.”

“You’re hard.” Charles chuckled. “Don’t say it like I can’t understand.”

Erik licked his lips, swallowing with difficulty.

“Can you...”

Charles looked down – not at his groin, he focused on the patterns on the carpet with intent.

“It is a little...strenuous, and to be fair, I only tried...twice. I haven’t really had partners or...motivations. I’m sorry, Erik, I can’t-”

Another kiss, a brief one, just enough to shut him up.

“I’ll be your partner.” Erik pledged. “I’ll be your motivation. And if it doesn’t work, but if I can only hold you like I held you today, I’m asking for no more. Well. I might need a hand every now and again.”

“Oh-oh.” Charles laughed. “You bad man.”

“Is that not how you address a Lord?” Erik quipped.

“Just be careful in public.” Charles retorted with amusement.

“We can be friends in the eyes of the world.” Erik said. “And more than that to each other.”

Saying this, he angled for another kiss, supporting himself by placing a hand inconspicuously close to Charles’s crotch. Charles kissed him back, and then took his hand, and guided it to his chest. He pressed it to his thumping heart, and Erik watched him intently, letting him command his movements. Charles slid down their hands, Erik’s palm still pressed against his body, down his chest, slowly, curving to the side across his belly, and finally resting it between his hip and the top of his thigh.

“Touch me to your heart’s content.” He murmured. “But beyond this point, I won’t be able to feel it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Erik said, lifting his hand back up a little to press against his waist. “Never be sorry for this.”

Charles let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. Erik got up – his knees must be beginning to hurt – only to steer Charles’s chair a little and sit in an armchair next to him.

“What is it?” He asked gently.

“It’s just, I have spent fifteen years of my life being sorry for this.” Charles confessed. “Sorry for the valets who had to carry me up and down and push my chair around. Sorry for Raven who was stuck with me instead of running about in the garden. Sorry for my mother who acted like she her son was lost to the world. Sorry for myself, sometimes. And I’m horrified by the thought that I could have never met you.”

“I only wish I’d come sooner.” Erik took his hand in his and held it tight. “You are already so precious to me, Charles, my heart bleeds for what you’ve been through. But I will never pity you for it, and I will love you so much, just the way you are, that you won’t have to feel sorry ever again, or ever want to change.”

Charles smiled, with an entrenched sadness that showed his heart still couldn’t quite believe this luck would last.

“Take some time off work.” He whispered, pushing his luck anyway. “I can compensate for your wages if you-”

“Charles.” Erik interrupted sharply. “I will never let you pay a _penny_ for me to spend time with you. You know my story; I have no family to support, only myself to care for. If I have no wages for some days, especially if it’s to be fed here, it’s not a problem.”

“Don’t you risk losing your position?” Charles worried. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I shouldn’t even have suggested it; that was selfish.”

“It would only be selfish if I didn’t want it as much as you do. But if I could spend every waking minute with you, and even the sleeping ones, I would. So I’ll take a few days, and you’ll enjoy your first summer of freedom for a very long time.” He smiled, and pressed a kiss to Charles lips. “And you know?” He added, sitting back in his chair again. “I’m very valuable at the factory. I wish them luck to find a more skilled worker to replace me. Don’t worry.”

Charles’s heart did a somersault, and he wanted nothing more than to pull Erik on his lap right now and lose his breath in his throat, but he ought to draw a few lines.

“There is something.” He said. “I meant what I said about being careful. If the word comes out that I’m... Raven would be ruined.” He cut to the chase. “No man in his right mind will marry her if her brother is known across the whole of society for taking men to his bed. Well, men. A man.”

“I understand.” Erik nodded. “If you don’t mind me saying, I hope your sister marries for love, for so much love her husband would not care who you take to your bed. But I do understand. And I won’t make one inappropriate gesture for anyone but you to witness.”

“Thank you.” Charles smiled warmly.

“Oh and by the way.” Erik said with a grin. “I liked the sound of that very much. It’s a pity you have so many maids and valets checking the contents of your bed.”

“On the other hand.” Charles replied lightly. “There is a very remote part of the park we haven’t visited yet.”

*

They spent an entire afternoon lying on a blanket under a willow tree; Charles told Erik it had been planted at the birth of his grandfather, and its branches reached the ground, shielding them from view, creating a circular, leafy shelter around them. It was one of Charles’s favourite places – a close second to his dear library – and he had never even taken Raven here (the tree that used to shelter them playing violin was a different one). She might know the place of course, but it was across the hives and she was scared of bees, and it was his place, his haven away from all. He explained to Erik that it had been difficult to come here as often as he used to once he was in a wheelchair, especially at the beginning when he still had weak arms and tired quickly, but it was the one place he always made the biggest effort to go to. And whenever he could not physically cross the grounds, he travelled in his mind. He closed his eyes, and he went there on his own two legs as he remembered them, he imagined scampering past the bee hives, and slouching in the dry leaves, and he almost heard the birds and the rustling of branches.

“Imagination.” Erik mused.”I was never able to have any.”

Charles chuckled. He was beginning to know the man. “I’m sure you’ve always believed it was a waste of time. A pastime for the rich and idle.”

“And the poets.” Erik quipped back.

He shuffled closer to Charles, sliding a hand across his belly to kiss him – first on the mouth, then trailing off along his jaw. He nibbled at the soft skin of his neck as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. Charles moaned softly when his skin was exposed, Erik’s fingers feather-light above his navel. Butterfly kisses everywhere Charles could feel them. And in the end Erik fell asleep with his forehead pressed against Charles shoulder and his hand resting just above his pubis. Charles could feel the warmth of his palm, could feel it so intently he almost had the impression the heat was spreading all the way down his legs. He drowsed off too with a smile on his face, feeling more alive than he’d been for the last fifteen years.

They woke up with rays of the setting sun piercing through the lower leaves and hitting their faces. Erik hummed appreciating, and greeted Charles back from their slumber with another set of kisses.

“That was the most relaxing time I’ve had in a long while.” He said softly. “I don’t usually sleep much, and certainly not as peacefully.”

“Insomnias?” Charles asked, his voice still fairly somnolent. He shivered from the cooler breeze, and Erik worked on buttoning up his clothes again.

“Nightmares.” He answered.

Charles heaved himself up on one elbow, casting a concerned look at Erik, who shrugged.

“Sometimes it’s my mother.” He said. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m drowning. They don’t scare me, I’ve gotten used to them. Sometimes there are good dreams too. These days you’re in them.” He smiled.

“I used to have nightmares every single night.” Charles shared. “The first few years after my accident. I would wake up screaming and sweating, and I wanted to kick back the covers, but I couldn’t. Back then my room was still upstairs, so Raven could hear me, and she sneaked in and held me until I’d cried myself back to sleep. After some time I learnt to block them, I didn’t want to let them haunt me forever. I don’t dream much anymore.”

“At all?” Erik asked, surprised.

“No.” Charles confirmed. “I don’t remember anyway. My mental barriers are efficient.”

“I don’t think I could do that.” Erik said thoughtfully. “I’ve just accepted that my subconscious is not a happy place, I think. It’s just a part of me.”

“That might work for you.” Charles said. “But after the first time I seriously considered killing myself, I thought I had to protect my spirit.”

Erik sat up, pulling Charles with him. He finished rearranging his clothes – Charles let him – before he spoke again.

“You considered killing yourself.” He pinpointed calmly.

“Three times.” Charles revealed. “A few years after the accident, as I told you, a few years of nightmares. That night Raven had just gone to stay with our uncle in London for a week or so, and I woke up alone, so I screamed louder like I hoped she would hear me from where she was. My father was the one who heard me, he stormed into my room in a state of rage and slapped me – knocked me off the bed, actually. I spent the rest of the night on the floor thinking I wanted to die.” He shook his head, and raised a hand to smooth the worried lines off Erik’s forehead. “Let’s not talk about the other times. I’m not there any longer.” He kissed him gently, and Erik returned the kiss before scooping him up and putting him back into the wheelchair. It would be time for dinner soon.

“There is one thing bothering me.” Erik said as he started pushing the chair towards the mansion.

“Just one?” Charles joked – it was a little strained, but it was his only defence.

Erik remained serious. “You say _the accident_ ”. He noted. “That wasn’t what it was.”

“Officially it was.” Charles replied a little defensively. “What do you think I said to people who asked for fifteen years? If you look closely you can see the imprint of my father’s boot on my back?” He shook his head. “The agreed-on story is that I fell down the stairs. An unfortunate accident.”

Erik opened his mouth to argue, but Charles cut him short as he went on:

“I know it wasn’t an accident.” He said. “I know it was all due to my father’s cruelty and violence. But I’m not going to start referring to it as _the attack_ or something of the like. I wanted to tell you the truth, even when we’d just met, because I couldn’t bear for you to misjudge me, but I don’t want to tell it to just anyone. Let them blame the stairs.”

“Yet you told them the story with the violin.” Erik noted.

“It’s not the same.” Charles said. “For one, they’re not _anyone_ , they’re friends. And even so, it’s not the same to have a short-tempered father who hits you where it can’t hurt, and to have an enraged father who breaks your body irretrievably. I received enough pity from people who didn’t even know the truth.”

“They’re friends.” Erik picked up his own words. “They wouldn’t pity you. I don’t pity you, I never will. What I feel is that I would kill your father if he were still alive.”

Charles had a laugh, although it was a slightly wry one.

“No, I wouldn’t let you.” He countered tenderly. “Then you would be in prison and he’s not worth that. Let’s forget about him, he’s done enough harm.” They’d crossed through the hives and an extent of grass and reached a straight gravel alley, on which Charles could more easily push his chair himself. He asked Erik to walk beside him, where he could better see him.

“My Lord.” The older man said playfully. “If you don’t keep your eyes off my lower back, I am afraid people will start to question the extent or our friendship.”

*

Charles was nervous when the car approached the little local theatre. It was no secret that he was unable to walk – as much as the late Lord Xavier had tried to keep this fact from common knowledge, it wasn’t the kind of news that travelled slowly, and over a decade and a half it had had plenty of time to travel everywhere – but Charles still wasn’t keen on people staring at him, at his legs. For many, seeing him actually work the wheels of his chair seemed to trigger incomprehensible fascination.

“Can you blame them?” Erik had smiled when he had expressed this discomfort to him. “You are a beautiful man, Charles. People have to stare at your legs, because they forget you can’t move them, they can’t believe it when they see you smile so charmingly and sit so elegantly. And the way your muscles ripple when you push yourself forward... if I could be more attracted to you than I already am, that would do it.”

“It’s your first outing as their new Lord.” Was Raven’s explanation. “And one of your only outings _ever_. And since you were hiding when they came over of my party... Of course they’re going to stare. Let them. They’ll love you.”

Going by the commotion that started as soon as their chauffeur, Darwin, helped Raven out of the car, the fact that they loved her at least was already a given. They had brought no other help with them, so Darwin then went round to extract Charles’s chair from the back of the car, and help him out and into it. Raven came to his side, but Charles directed his own wheels, thanking Darwin and giving him the choice to either come into the theatre with them or go do whatever he wanted – as long as it wasn’t anything that impaired his ability to drive them back after the play.

It was the last night of the touring performance of _Romeo and Juliet_ , after which Sean and Angel would enjoyed some deserved rest – already planned on being spent essentially on Xavier grounds – before they started rehearsing for _Othello_ , by popular demand for the next season. It was customary for the last performance to be a free one, back home for every villager to be able to come and see what had delighted the noble family around the county. It was not customary however for the local noble family to attend; Charles and Raven’s parents had never shown the least interest in theatre, let alone if it was played by commoners in some small, badly lit theatre. Raven was thrilled by the mere idea of it, and Charles, of course, had a great love for the theatre, for words in general. Obviously the rumour mill had been working fast and well, because it looked like the whole town was here to witness that historical moment. Children were recognizing Raven from the good time they had at her garden party, and trying to get hold of her arm with cries of joy. Simon came to shake Charles’s hand, setting an example for a bunch of other men who seemed to find the mere fact to say “My Lord” to him and trigger a smile very amusing. Women were less keen to approach, but Charles could see them whisper and giggle to each other with side glances at him. He had to guess Erik was right, and he was considered an attractive man in spite of his diminutions.

Erik wasn’t there tonight. He had been able to negotiate a week away from the factory – he was indeed, as he had predicted, very valuable to his superior – in exchange however for putting down to the paper some of his designs and formulas for posterity; and in fact for a future much closer to that. The owner of the factory had been very blunt, very dark when he’d talked to Erik. “War is upon Europe.” He’d said. “It’s only a matter of time before young, valiant men like you have to leave for wherever the country needs you to fight. But my factory will have to keep running. And it will run better with your ideas still here somewhere to be consulted.”

He hadn’t reported the full conversation to Charles. He knew the prospect of war sent him to a dark place already, made him look at his dead legs ruefully and lose himself in thinking about what else he could do if he couldn’t go to the battlefield. Knowing that almost every other man he knew would be over there. He didn’t’ need to be reminded that Erik would be one of those men, would have to leave him if war was declared. Charles was very aware of that, nonetheless. Erik could tell, by the lost look he had given him the one time they’d talked about it. He already knew this summer bliss couldn’t last forever. And he wasn’t ready to lose Erik yet, not so soon. It broke Erik’s heart to imagine Charles alone again in his great big house, powerless in this situation, waiting for news from those who could stand.

Erik would join them later that night. Raven had invited all the actors, not just Sean and Angel, to come and have dinner with them after the performance. Moira had reported she had started to hear that a number of their acquaintances in the upper circles of society were taking offense of Raven’s generosity towards the lower classes – which had only made her more decided to keep breaking the conventions of their shiny little restricted world.

“For all they know we’ll be at war in a matter of weeks.” She had growled. “Then it won’t matter so much who’s born a Lord and who’s not.”

In the meantime, they’d make the most of their new friends. It was easier for them than it was for Moira. She did not like to be constrained, and she was developing more than just a liking for Simon, but her relationship with her parents was good, and she knew for all their kindness that they wouldn’t approve. She wasn’t sure how to go about the whole matter – so unsure, in fact, that she just decided not to take any decision and enjoy the present day. She sat next to Simon in the theatre, taking his hand in the dark when nobody could see them.

The performance was a delight, every actor perfect in their own part, mixing the humour, the bawdiness and the drama of Shakespeare’s line in a flawlessly balanced way. Admittedly it wasn’t the finest acting one could ever see, but the characters were well fleshed and it was closer to the audience, more accessible than some stuck-up excessively professional performing. Even some of the smallest children got caught up in the funnier scenes.

After the play and the joyful mayhem that ensued – bows, handshakes, praises, etc – Charles managed to make his way through the crowd and back to the car, leaving it to Raven to gather everyone else; the weather was fine, and it was altogether a twenty-minute walk, so that was what they would do. Charles didn’t even offer a seat in the car to anyone; he knew they were all rather happy with walking, and it would have looked like he was angling for the company. He was quite used to being left alone; he didn’t think much of it.

To his surprise however the car wasn’t empty. Erik was already sitting in there with a bright smile, and he helped Darwin heave him in.

“Good evening, my Lord.” He greeted him cheekily. “I finished my work about an hour ago and I saw your car as I walked down the street. I’ve had an exhausting day; I hope you won’t deem me presumptuous for thinking you wouldn’t mind giving me a lift.”

“I thought it would be all right, my Lord.” Darwin worried slightly. “I remembered you saying Mr Lehnsherr was coming to dinner. I hope I wasn’t out of place letting him inside the car.”

“It’s quite all right, Darwin, thank you.” Charles reassured him. “If I haven’t said this before, I trust your judgement completely. And I’m not my father.”

The previous chauffeur, before Darwin was hired for the position, had been memorably sacked for taking a woman in labour to the nearest doctor as he’d found her soldiering on, walking by herself from her farm to the village, clenching her teeth through the contractions. It hadn’t even delayed the chauffeur’s duties, and the car was spotless when Lord Xavier had next set foot in it, but it hadn’t saved him anyway. Thankfully, he had found another position with a more charitable family.

It was very challenging for Charles not to lean in and kiss Erik hello. Especially when he could read the exact same urge in the man’s face, and could still feel the press of his hands where he had held him to help him into the car. For appearances’ sake, however, they remained perfectly civilised and let Darwin drive them whilst talking about the play, Erik’s day and the morning paper. Only when they were in front of the house, and Darwin went round the car to take the chair out, did Erik lean in and brushed a kiss on Charles’s lips before he climbed down and positioned himself to help him out. Charles scowled at him. The shadow of a kiss felt like worst than nothing, actually, and was leaving him extremely frustrated. Erik only grinned.

He helped Charles back into his chair with assistance from Alex, who had very eagerly run out of the house as soon as he’d heard them pull over. He updated him on the dinner preparations – Hanley and the rest of the staff had set the dining room for a large party and the cook Mrs Bateman had prepared a medley of cold dishes so Raven and the rest could take all the time they wanted to arrive.

“That is absolutely perfect.” Charles appreciated, certain Alex would relay the message. “We shall wait for them in the library, then.” He said. “Could you please call us when they arrive?”

Alex blinked, and Erik could see the newest addition to Charles’s staff wasn’t yet used to being addressed so politely.

“Of course, my Lord.” He nodded. “Do you wish to change? Mason is ready for you if you would need to.”

“No, this is all right.” Charles declined. In different circumstances, if the guests were all of his class, he would have changed, not because he thought he needed to, but out of respect for them and because it was what was done. But none of the company tonight would have the opportunity to change into finer clothes, so it was only fair he remained in the simple outfit he had elected to wear to the theatre. “Although do thank Mason for being so thoughtful.”

“I will.” Alex pledged.

He left them in the hall, off to his own duties, and Charles pushed his chair down the corridor to the library, Erik by his side.

“They could all be here very soon.” Charles said as Erik closed the door of the library behind them. “We are very likely to be interrupted in the middle of our chess game.”

“Would you rather not start one then?” Erik inquired.

“I’d rather you kissed me right now.” Charles answered. “We have a few minutes to spare if we’re not going to have time to reach a chess mate anyway.”

“Let’s say you win.” Erik replied, and in an instant he was losing his breath in Charles throat, supporting himself with one hand on Charles’s knees and the other on the nape of his neck. Charles’s own hands got lost in Erik’s hair, pulling him closer as lips and tongues clashed together. Erik was about to ask if it would be a very bad idea if he sat on his lap when the door opened.

“My Lord- Oh!”

Erik jumped back, and there was Alex standing in the doorway with a hand over his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed. “I knocked but I didn’t wait I’m so sorry! I’m so-”

“Alex!” Charles interrupted. He had gone paler than his shirt, eyes wide – and all Erik could focus on was his lips, his sinfully red, slightly swollen lips. Luckily Alex, as he looked up, seemed to focus on the look on terror on his employer’s face instead.

“Oh!” He said, waving his hands before him. “No no, I swear I won’t tell a soul. I’ve seen nothing. I just-”

“Alex.” Charles repeated, looking less horrified and this time even blushing. “I appreciate your discretion, and I...” For a second his impulse was to apologize, but he realized there was nothing about what he’d just done he wanted to apologize for. “I hope you will not reconsider your position here because of this.” He finished.

Alex looked surprised. “Why would I? You know what the first thing Hanley told me about you, about even considering working here? That you needed all the love you could get. Sorry if that was inappropriate my Lord, but I asked to be filled in on your life story, and I’m more than happy you’ve found...someone.” He said a little clumsily. “Honestly.” He insisted. “And...” He stopped himself, looked down, then looked back up with a controlled expression. He cleared his throat. “I actually came back to ask you from Mrs Bateman if you preferred the almonds on the side or not there at all? I’m not sure what that means.”

“Oh, yes.” Charles understood. “Yes, she likes to top her chocolate cake with almonds, but I’m allergic. Tell her on the side is perfect, thank you. I wouldn’t want to deprive anyone else of the pleasure.”

Alex nodded and exited the room, closing the door behind him carefully. Charles turned to Erik in dismay, and was surprised to find him smiling.

“He’s attracted to a man himself.” He guessed, looking at the door almost fondly.

Charles frowned. “Do you think? You know, he could be understanding without being in the same situation.”

“I know he could.” Erik said. “But I’m quite convinced he was on the brink of confessing something here.”

“This is not good.” Charles frowned. “Even if he said he wouldn’t talk to anyone, if he thinks it’s fine to let a friend know, if I become notorious for accepting staff with this kind of inclination...”

“Charles.” Erik took his hands in his. “Your footman seems like a nice young man. And when I say he has _this kind of inclination_ , as you put it, I don’t mean he’s going to try and get you to hire his lover – if there is even one. Don’t you see? Alex adores you, Charles, just like the rest of your staff. He’s not going to get you into trouble.”

Charles couldn’t help a little smile. “I like your optimism.” He tightened his fingers on Erik’s hand. “But let’s be more careful. This could have been much worse.”

“They all adore you.” Erik insisted. “I honestly think you could parade me around your house and nobody would say a word. Charles.” He said more seriously. “How many of them kept the secret that your father was _beating you_ when they didn’t even like him, just out of duty and loyalty? For you they have love, esteem, and respect. The fact that you may love a man won’t change that.”

“You can’t be sure.” Charles looked down. He looked back up, and forced a smile. “Come on. Let’s play chess. It is an innocent activity that yet I find enthrallingly erotic when it’s with you.”

Erik laughed, and he was delighted by the way Charles blushed at his own audacious comment. “You are so beautiful.” He smiled fondly.

“I’m still getting used to that.” Charles smiled back – with something like sadness at the bottom of his eyes. Erik was the first person to tell him things like this. For his entire life he had been the runt of the family; his father never abstained from letting him know, and people around them who knew of his condition were careful not to comment his physical appearance at all, saving their praises for Raven’s increasing loveliness.

“Well then.” Erik said. “I shall keep reminding you.”

*

That last afternoon together reminded Charles of a Shakespeare play. Sean and Angel had delighted them with a song and dance, accompanied by Raven’s violin in a rather improvised way, alternatively awkward and perfect, beautiful and hilarious. Sean had an amazing voice, and Angel spun and hopped on the grass like she was flying. They ate a cold luncheon, with fruit and cakes and sweet wine, lying lazily on blankets spread on the lawn, and they told each other stories, laughing and feeling like the moment would last forever. Charles sat leaning against Erik, and Moira lied down with her head on Simon’s lap who combed his fingers through her hair, and there was nobody to tell them anything against it.

When someone did interrupt them it was Kitty, Raven’s maid, tears streaming down her face, and followed closely by Alex who didn’t look much less distressed. They had obviously run all the way from the house. Raven got up – everyone straightened – to run to Kitty, who all but collapsed into her arms and started sobbing.

“Lucy.” Alex breathed out. Lucy was their housemaid. “Lucy just got the news from town.” He took a sharp intake of breath. “It’s war.” He announced. “It’s official. We’re at war with Germany.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the violin piece, I had in mind the tune from Canone Inverso (beginning of this track: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E1CUKFIlcck) but it could be anything in your own head!


	3. Wartime

_Well I left home three days ago I feel like going to bed_

_(Johnny Flynn, “Barnacled Warship”)_

 

September 1914. Erik was surprised not to see Charles anywhere when he visited. Raven received him, had tea brought over, and they sat in the music room in silence for a while, the air heavy with unspoken qualms. Erik, who had done his best to compose himself before arriving and had entered the house perfectly calm, became more and more fretful as the minutes passed, and could hardly take any more after two sips of tea.

“Charles didn’t know I was stopping by?” He asked uncertainly.

Raven looked into her teacup intently. “He knows.” She said in a strangled voice. “He’s in his room. Erik...” She looked up to him, her eyes welling up with tears. “Is there any way?”

“No.” Erik shook his head. It wasn’t even a question for him. Somehow, his German origins gave him even more purpose to fight for England, the country where he had grown, learned, lost and loved.

“I’m sorry.” Raven looked down again. “I shouldn’t even have suggested it. I know Charles would go in a blink if he could. But...he can’t, and he’s been in pain since the announcement. This is the worst reminder of his condition. He’s both the most loyal and the most empathic person I know. He’ll suffer from not being able to serve the country like any man in his generation, and because he’s safe here he’ll focus on feeling the pain of everyone else who’s not. That’s who he is; he’s been dreading the war more, somehow, than someone who’s going to risk dying in the battlefield, because he’s stuck as a spectator of _everything_ , and war is the worst spectacle this world can produce. It was bad enough all this while, and now on top of that he’s losing you.” She glanced up briefly, and the expression of surprise on Erik’s face almost drew a smile to her lips. “Don’t give me that look, of course I know. Do you think there is anything Charles would be able to hide from me? And even if he could, he would tell me something like this.” She sighed. “You are so important to him. He doesn’t want to say goodbye.”

“Well.” Erik answered. “I’m not leaving without saying goodbye.”

“Go to him.” Raven suggested. “Come, I’ll take you to his room. All the staff is downstairs, I told them to leave him alone. Not that they would be indiscreet, and everyone should have other matters in mind really, but it will ensure you more privacy. If you want...” She hesitated. “You can-” She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. “You can pretend to leave, and I’ll sneak you back in after Mason and George have supposedly helped Charles to bed. You can have this night.”

“Thank you.” Erik spoke softly, visibly touched. “I will take as much time as Charles gives me, and I will give him as much time as I have. I wish I could stay and forever hold him in my arms.” He caught her by the arm as she started to walk to the door. “Raven. Take care of him.”

She had a small smile. “I always have.”

*

Charles was lying on the floor in a foetal position between his chair and his bed when Erik let himself in. He rushed to his side in a panic.

“Charles!” He checked if he wasn’t hurt. “Are you all right?”

“I fell.” Charles answered weakly. “I wanted to reach for my book and I leaned too far forward.”

“You should have called for someone.” Erik said gently.

“I don’t want to get up.”

Without a warning, Erik grabbed him where we was and pulled him up rather brutally to throw him – or nearly – on the bed. He followed and straddled him with his hands each side of his shoulders.

“Don’t do that.” It was an order, and it was a plea. “I know how hard it is for you, I know you would give anything to be able to stand up and fight alongside me, I know it’s killing you to watch me go. God knows it’s breaking my heart to leave you.” He pressed his forehead to Charles’s, and his voice fell down to little more than a whisper. “But you are so strong, Charles, you are _so_ strong, you have to stay strong, I have to know you will be okay, I can’t leave with this image of you, please...”

Charles lifted both hands to Erik’s face and pulled him down into a kiss. Erik slid his arms under Charles’s back, lifting him up as he was supporting himself, pressing their bodies together.

“I can’t lose you.” Charles breathed when they broke for air. “I know war is not just about the frontline, and there is a lot I can do to help right here. With the women, the children and the elderly. I’m prepared for that, I...I don’t like it, but it’s my life, it’s where I fit now, and I’m prepared for that. I’m not prepared for _you_. I never expected to love you so much and I’m not ready to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me.” Erik pledged. “Charles, I swear. I will come back to you. Always.”

Charles let out a choked sound, and pulled Erik down again. He knew, they both knew that it wasn’t a promise Erik could reasonably make. But they chose to believe it. They needed to believe it.

“I’ll wait for you.” Charles whispered back.

Then contradictorily he pushed him off. “Help me back into my chair.” He asked. “Let me go through my little evening ritual, let everyone go to bed having done their duty, and come back. Spend the night here. So we can have more than each other’s image to part on.”

Erik kissed him again, and carried him to his chair. “I’ll be right back then.” He said with another kiss.

Raven was waiting down the corridor when he came out of Charles’s room, and she made a show of walking him out and waving him off the alley – he would circle the house and she would leave the door of the conservatory open for him. He waited for an hour, trying to think about anything but the future.

It felt a little odd to break into Charles’s house, but he could hardly wait any longer when he did; he needed to hold him in his arms, to cradle him through the night, to kiss him until his lips hurt and he could taste him on his tongue for days after that.

Charles was in his bed reading, propped up against the pillows, bare-chested and his hair damp from his bath – he looked gorgeous, and it took Erik all the self-control he possessed not to pounce on him. Charles’s face lit up when he entered and closed the door quietly behind him; he put his book away and extended his arms towards Erik like a child asking for a hug. Erik walked to the bed and treated him to it very willingly, wrapping his arms tightly around his body, feeling the warmth of his skin. They stayed like this for a while, holding on to each other, knowing full well they wouldn’t be able to do that for a long time. When Charles drew back, he took Erik’s hands into his.

“I want you to touch me.” He asked timidly. “I want the memory of this night to warm all your nights while you’re away. If you want to.”

“If I want to?” Erik chortled. “You’ll make me the happiest soldier in the county.”

“I thought it was only civil to offer.” Charles said with a smile. “Since you have no imagination.”

“Cheeky uh?” Erik smiled, kissing his neck, nibbling on his shoulder, tongue darting out to taste his skin. “You want to know something though?” He said, sitting up and taking Charles in with nothing but wonder in his eyes. “I could have all the imagination in the world, nothing would come close to what I’m seeing here.” He traced a finger along Charles arms, the finely defined muscles strengthened by years and years of pushing a wheelchair, along his collarbone, down his sternum. Charles’s skin covered with goose-bumps and his breath accelerated slightly. “You are stunning. Breathtakingly so.”

Charles laughed softly. “I’d be ready to believe that if it wasn’t you talking. You know my heart jumped right out of my chest the moment I saw you? I’m nervous.”

“About what?” Erik asked kindly.

“I won’t compare when we’re both naked.” There was a playful glint in his eyes, indicating that the prospect, and the process, took the worry off the end result.

Erik was happy to indulge. “Let’s see about that.” He said. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Charles’s breath hitched. “Oh, God. You were right about imagination. It doesn’t even begin to do reality justice.” Absorbed by the sight of Erik, he jumped when he felt his hands on his hips, fingers slipping under the edge of his waistband. “No!” He cried out instinctively. Erik stopped, eyes widening a little. “Sorry. Sorry, I...” He swallowed with difficulty. “I’m not attractive down there. My legs are thin and dead, I hate them.”

Erik looked deep into his eyes, and then leaned in; he kissed his forehead, kissed his lips. He lingered on one of his nipples for a moment, and kept going down, just a brush of his lips above his navel, and didn’t stop. He pulled down Charles’s slacks – drawing a small whimper from his mouth – and kissed the inside of his thigh, then the other, running his hands down the length of his legs although he could not feel it. “You are beautiful.” He affirmed. “You whole. If I say I love your legs just as much as the rest of your body, will you start liking them yourself?”

“I don’t believe you.” Charles said, but he was smiling. “And I’ve done enough staring at your legs, even clothed, to know I don’t nearly measure up to you. I don’t measure up to a lot of men.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Erik said, kissing him again, softly. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? Since it’s you I love. I’m not going to look at other men. Besides.” He added mischievously. “Legs are overrated. Look at what’s in between.” He leaned back in and placed a kiss on Charles’s cock.

“Oh, God.” Charles’s breath stuck in his throat. “I can feel that.”

“So tell me.” Erik nuzzled a bit higher, sucking on the skin around Charles’s navel. “When were those two occurrences in which you tried to get hard?”

“Seventeen.” Charles said, brushing a hand through Erik’s hair. “I was still a child, paralysed for over half my life, didn’t have a clue what sex really was, but I overheard two maids talking, and I wanted to...try. Not try sex itself, but see if I could, well.” He blushed in the most adorable way. “They were talking about...it...swelling, and becoming bigger and hard, and I didn’t know if I could do that.” He sighed, pulled Erik up so he would kiss his lips instead. “It didn’t work, if you want to know.” He went on. “Back then I didn’t realize I needed some sort of excitement, other than rage and frustration because I was broken.”

“You’re not broken.” Erik whispered, still somehow gnawing at ever exposed bit of Charles.

“I know that now.” Charles said with fondness. Erik was the main reason he knew that now. “And the second time, two years ago actually, I tried again after a particularly graphic reading – really, there is _anything_ in books. This one was an anonymous _Journal Of A Sodomite_ hidden under a cover saying _How To Train Your Afghan Hound_ , I don’t even know why I picked it up. I suspect my great uncle had acquired it. And it worked, with time and rereading of some passages, so I was rather reassured. Not that it did me any good then, but well. It’s a good thing to know right now.”

“It is.” Erik confirmed.

“I can’t promise you it’ll be great.” Charles swallowed. “But I want to give you everything I can.”

“Oh, Charles.” Erik whispered. “You have already given me more than I could ever have hoped for. I think this is the first time I’ve been truly happy since my mother’s death. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Let’s see if you amend that statement by the end of the night.” Charles said almost naughtily. He snaked a hand down between their bodies, and found the edge of Erik’s trousers. “Didn’t you mention something about needing a hand the other day?” He asked, feigning innocence.

“Look at you, where had that confidence gone to?” Erik laughed. “You sure you can handle this?” He teased. “I’d be surprised if you ever touched another man’s cock before in your life. Being well-read is not quite enough.”

“Guide me then.” Charles answered. “I’m a fast learner.”

Their fingers entangled clumsily in getting Erik out of his clothes – and when he was entirely naked, predictably, Charles gaped. “O brave new world.” He said in a strangled voice. “That has such people in it.

“Give Shakespeare a break.” Erik chuckled.

“My own words are failing me.” Charles justified. “You are...” He licked his lips. “Can I touch you?”

“I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.” Erik smiled.

Charles raised a hand to his chest first, probing shyly, flattening his palm against the warm skin. Erik didn’t move and let him explore. He brushed a finger against Erik’s nipple, feather-light, just enough to send a shiver down the man’s spine. He joined in with his second hand, caressing Erik’s flanks, down to the side of his legs – Erik was holding himself up above him, his shaft pointing conspicuously between them while Charles still ignored it, sliding his hands back up, and reaching further to cup both cheeks of Erik’s arse. 

“Up.” He said then, raspy voice and a fire in his eyes.

“Up?” Erik frowned.

Charles was staring at Erik’s cock intently. “Up.” He repeated, as if he was talking to the erection itself. “I want to use my mouth.”

The words went straight to Erik’s already fully erect cock, and he didn’t think he had even been this hard in his life. He kissed Charles thoroughly before he obeyed and moved up, camping a knee either side of his shoulders to place himself above his face. Charles’s hands found their spot on his arse again, and he raised his head up to kiss the tip of Erik’s cock – Erik did his best not to shake violently, especially when Charles opened his lips a little to kiss him again, and again, and his tongue darted out to lick the head, and they were open mouth kisses now, and not really kisses anymore as Charles took Erik a little bit deeper into his mouth every time he bobbed his head back and forth. Erik’s knees gave in and had to support himself on the bed frame, gripping so tight his knuckles were soon going white.

“How-” He panted. “Do you know- how to do this?”

“I don’t.” Charles answered between two mouthfuls. “But you seem to enjoy it.”

“God yes.” Erik groaned, bucking his hips uncontrollably and starting to fuck Charles’s mouth, joining in the movement. Charles didn’t seem to mind, if anything he took him even deeper, Erik’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Then suddenly he changed tactics, stopped licking up and down, and started sucking, tongue pressing hard into the flesh as if he was trying to draw milk. Sure enough, eventually he did, and Erik bit into his own hand to muffle his cry as he came into Charles’s mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Erik gasped, breathless, as Charles coughed, surprised by the ejaculation. “I’m sorry, here-” He got up, grabbed the little towel conveniently placed on the bedside table. “You can spit.” He offered, wiping traces of semen around Charles’s lips.

“I’m okay.” Charles assured, his voice rather hoarse, but undeniably happy. “Why are you sorry? Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?”

“Yes.” Erik smiled, tossing the towel aside and leaning down to kiss Charles – those lips, God, he could not get enough. “And you were impossibly good at making it happen. But I don’t want you to choke either.”

“Well, I didn’t.” Charles smiled and kissed back.

“Can I return the favour?” Erik asked. Charles looked uncertain, but he nodded. Erik left a trail of kisses from his mouth to his jaw, collarbone, sternum, and let himself be distracted by a nipple. He rolled it under his tongue, feeling it harden, loving the way Charles’s body arched beneath him and his breathing lost any kind of regularity. At the same time, he warped a hand around Charles’s cock and started stroking it, gently, as if trying to coax some hardness into it. It worked better and quicker than he had imagined, surprising them both. It was probably the first time Charles had been in so favourable a state of mind.

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling.” He whined, and his voice was begging for Erik to continue. “But if I could love you more than I love you right now my heart would burst.”

Erik gave his nipple a last tug, and brought his mouth down to Charles’s now hard cock. He only took the head in, sucking softly and swirling his tongue against the skin, still striking the base with his hand – the other hand reached up to pinch on Charles’s neglected nipple. The young Lord writhed and whimpered completely uncontrollably, maddened by the sensations that were mostly all so new to him. Erik wasn’t sure he could get an orgasm out of him, he had never had one, and with his reduced sensitivity the stimulation might not be enough; but he enjoyed this so far, and Erik very much enjoyed it too.

Until the sounds coming out of Charles’s mouth changed, and after a minute Erik realised he was crying. He stopped immediately, distressed, bringing both hands to cup Charles’s face, brushing the tears under his eyes as if to make them stop.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly. “Charles, did I hurt you?”

“No.” Charles sobbed, rolling on his side and burying his face in his hands. “No, it was good, it was too good, you have made me, so happy, God-” His voice broke, and his whole body jerked with a sob.

“I don’t understand.” Erik said, upset by the sight of Charles in this state. “Charles, love, what is it?”

“You’re leaving.” Charles whispered wretchedly. “And it’s breaking my heart. I’m sorry, the moment was perfect but then it just...shattered.”

Erik didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t think he had to say anything – not with actual words. He moved until he was lying down next to Charles and took him into his arms, cradling him as close as he could, pressed his lips against his temple, and let him cry against his shoulder while he stroked his hair; and it said enough about how much he loved him, how much he didn’t want to leave, how much his own heart was breaking along with his.

“I’ll come back.” He whispered. “You are my life.  I’ll come back.” He repeated it and other sweet, soothing words, like a prayer, like a promise, until Charles’s sobs eased down. He shuffled closer to Erik, who slipped one leg between Charles’s. “I’ll write.” Erik added, knowing Charles wouldn’t ask. “Not every day.”

“Why not every day?” Charles couldn’t stop himself.

“Because I don’t want you to go out of your mind with worry if one day I can’t write or it gets lost.”

“I’ll worry anyway.” Charles said.

“Charles...”

“No, don’t misunderstand me.” Charles explained. “I’m not going to spend every hour of the day pining and watching the horizon like a sailor’s wife. I can think of a whole lot of things I can do, I’ll be active. But I will never, for one second, stop thinking about you, until you’re in my arms again.”

“And you’ll be in my dreams every night until then.” Erik said. He added with a smile: “Even if I wanted to, I would be hard pressed to forget tonight anytime soon.”

“I didn’t...I’m sorry I ruined it.” Charles apologised self-consciously.

“Are you joking?” Erik bit softly into his cheekbone. “It was perfect, you said it yourself. And you didn’t ruin anything. Even the best things have to end. But.” He kissed his lips again. “It doesn’t mean they can’t be repeated.”

“Next time I won’t break into tears.” Charles said with a smile, trying to sound confidently optimistic about there even being a possible _next time_. “Promise.”

“Promise.” Erik repeated.

*

Morning was drawing near. Charles was still sleeping, his naked body pressed against Erik’s – if he’d been awake, Erik thought, he would certainly have quoted _Romeo and Juliet_. He listened to the birds for a moment, and eventually shook Charles gently. Charles groaned, rubbed his face sleepily against Erik’s shoulder, and almost went right back to sleep.

“Charles.” Erik insisted. “I’ll have to go soon if we don’t want to be caught like this.”

“I don’t care.” Charles hushed, and tightened his arm around Erik’s chest.

“Yes, you do.” Erik countered.

“Right now?” Charles said, opening his eyes to look at the man. “I really don’t. I could live with being locked in this room with you for the rest of our lives to spare the outside world the indecency. We could write. Like Oscar Wilde.”

Erik smiled tenderly. “Be reasonable, my love.” He whispered, kissing Charles’s forehead.

“I love you.” Charles breathed. “Do you really have to go now?”

“I have to go.” Erik confirmed. “Think of Raven’s future reputable marriage.”

“I think I want to be selfish for a minute or two.” Charles said, pulling Erik up and kissing him full on the mouth. They kissed for a minute or two – Erik resisting the urge to slide his hands down Charles body, or they were in for ten times that amount of time – and then Charles had to let Erik get up and pull on his clothes (accessorily put Charles’s thin trousers back on him too). When Erik turned back to look at Charles, he looked heartbroken. “I know.” Charles whispered. He extended his hand; Erik took it, and he gave it a squeeze.

“See you soon.” Charles said resolutely.

*

_Charles._

_Two months away from you already feel like twenty years. I only have time for a short letter and I do not think I wish to make you picture my surroundings here. There is enough misery in the world for me not to share this with you. I close my eyes and I see your house, your library, your face. I close my eyes and I see your eyes, and the horror fades away slightly. I imagine the sadness in your eyes, and I wish I were by your side to make it fade away slightly. Please let me know you are healthy, and your sister. I love you more than I can say, but I say it every night hoping you can hear me in your dreams._

_I love you_

_Erik, yours, always_

 

November 1914. The dreams. Charles believed he unconsciously let them back in after Erik’s letter, hoping maybe he would dream of him, and hear his voice whisper words of love in his ear. Oh he did dream of Erik. Dreams of blood, of screams and darkness. The first night they happened he _howled_ , such a loud and painful sound that Raven heard him, almost fell over herself rushing down the stairs and entered his room with tears running down her face. Mason, who’d heard and rushed too, remained at the door, respectful but distressed, while Raven took Charles into her arms and he held on to her as if his life depended on it, crying and crying and crying until he all but passed out on her shoulder from exhaustion.

 

_My Erik,_

_There is not one minute of my day that is not filled with the image of you, and I have to admit at night I try to keep you away – my subconscious does not agree with happy memories, and the nightmares are back every time I let myself dream. As much as I want you in my nights, I cannot take one more vision of you in pain. My heart hopes you are well so intently it aches. I know this is a silly thing to ask but – don’t die._

_I am keeping myself busy, as planned and promised. Things here are becoming more hectic by the day. We had an idea to offer the house to install the hospital, which will need more space than it occupies at the moment, but the logistics turned out to be more complicated than we envisaged. Due to the current setting of the roads and train tracks, it would be a great waste of time to take the wounded all the way up here. Doctor Hank McCoy had an idea in the end – he is the head of the existing clinic and will take charge of the developing hospital and its much needed new staff (speaking of which, Raven is training speedily to be able to help as a nurse, and she is taking her maid Kitty with her, who is already qualified). The idea was to put the hospital in the school, which is much closer to the station, and really quite large with the classrooms and the boarding house and the headmistress and teacher’s rooms. As you may guess, we have not closed the school for all this; they are now in the process of settling here with us, in the east wing. There are enough rooms for the remaining teachers, and we’ve arranged dormitories for the children – they all seem very happy. Our largest ballroom, I don’t think I ever took you there, is being made suitable for classes. And, as I am sure you will be happy to hear, I have been asked and have agreed to replace the literature and language teacher who left for France. I will begin giving my classes, I think in the library, from next week._

_Alex’s little brother Scottie is in my class; he lives here now with the rest of the boarders and he volunteered (I think Alex put him up to it, bless him) to help Mason tend to me. He is only twelve, but a strong little lad, and as lively as his brother. With Alex, George and Darwin left for the war, and with the house now being a school, we are finding ourselves a little short on staff, and are offering positions to women, and men who could not be soldiers. I was very much surprised when Mr Ragger presented himself to be hired; he was my father’s valet, and I do not think he likes me very much. He was in the train wreck with my parents and lost his wife (my mother’s maid) as well as an eye – it left him even more short-tempered than he used to be, poor man, but we need all the help we can get._

_I hope those news will reach you, and more soon._

_Loving you forevermore_

_– Charles_

 

February 1915. He was hanging on to Charles’s image as if to life itself, carrying him in his head and in his heart, day and night, as a reason to go on, to survive, to come back. Every long hour, for Charles, every assault, for Charles, every bullet, every pain, every fear. For Charles. He didn’t care what happened to him _per se_ , but he couldn’t break Charles’s heart. So he would survive, and he would be in one piece, and he would go home and love Charles for the rest of his long, healthy life.

 

_Love,_

_Forgive me if I edit your name out of our letters, and send them to the post office rather than to your house – I sent a personally note to old Carney working there; he is a good friend of mine and will know my handwriting. I am sure this will reach you with little delay. Mail is being opened and read occasionally, and I’m afraid increasingly frequently, and I do not wish my commanding officers to get such an insight on my private life. Especially since I have heard the name of one of the officers in the division I will be moved to next week. Please do not fret and worry at this news, but it is a Colonel S. Shaw. There is little to no chance it is not the man I know, and I apprehend seeing him again, but I will not make myself known and I hope to go unnoticed as far as possible. Be assured that it will not fragment in the least my determination to survive through everything and come back to you the soonest possible moment._

_I was glad to hear your news – not about your nightmares; I pray every night before going to sleep that you managed to push those away again. I hope the new responsibilities you have are bringing you some form of happiness and fulfilment. I would say congratulations on your first paid employment, but I am sure you are doing this voluntarily. I can only hope R will not be too busy, but I know realistically she will be, very much so. Give her my best wishes too. Paper and ink are already fast becoming a luxury, so I am keeping this short. Do not use your imagination to fill in the blanks. I am still well, and I love you._

_Erik_

 

August 1915. Erik was a man of little words, but each of them was all the more precious to Charles, and he put them safely in his heart until Erik could speak them to his ear again. He read and reread his letters. He read letters from George, who wrote to him almost as much as to his father, from Sean, who actually wrote to Angel who showed them the letters, and from Alex and Darwin who were in the same regiment (Darwin driving the tanks with a dexterity that made his officers notice him). He read letters from the daddies of some of the smallest kids who brought the pages to him at the end of classes. He read letters from Simon when Moira choked with tears and he had to take over.

 

_Darling Erik,_

_I think my previous letters got lost somewhere between me and you, as the one letter I received from you gave no indication that they had reached you. I imagine how restricted the posting services must be, and maybe you are moving around a bit. I hope this will find you well and healthy. I haven’t been that myself, healthy, for a couple of weeks. The weather got awfully cold, as I am sure you have direly experienced in the trenches, and although our resources are still good we want to use as little as we can, to be able to help others, and to live through I don’t know how many years this war will last. It has become obvious now that the optimistic few months we thought you’d be gone were a dream, and that this will be a much longer ordeal for everyone. I am in physical pain when I think I might not see you for several years; however, if you happen to have a permission, do not waste it in coming all the way here, use it to rest and gather your strength. I am sure you need it more than I need a sight and a touch of you._

_I have been ill, I said, but I am much better now and there is no ground for worry, please believe me. Hank (doctor and now friend) diagnosed pneumonia, and I spend weeks in bed worrying everyone else sick. I was you who pulled me through, because I couldn’t have you come back from the war to a corpse; I thought of you and I found the strength to survive. I hope I am giving you the same strength where you are – God knows how constantly I think of you. The children were adorable during my illness, taking turns to read me books and keep me informed of what was going on outside of my room. Not the least of which is, I think R has taken a liking to Hank, working as a nurse alongside him day and night – she is being truly great, dealing with the wounded, sometimes the dead. I’m not saying I doubted her, but she proved much stronger than even I dotingly imagined. Hank has been a wonderful guide and support for her, and I suspect their attachment to each other is beginning to turn romantic. It is a good thing to have around the house, a little romance. Moira hasn’t heard from Simon in what feels like forever, and she is spending a lot of her time here with me, I think for her own sake more than for mine. She knows about you (she is my best friend, and I could not deny it when she guessed), and it is somehow comforting to share the anguish with someone, for me and her – her parents would not understand._

_It distressed me to hear about your new commandment; I hope it did not give you too much additional cause for pain, I hope_ he _has other fish to fry than to torment you. I know you will not like my suggesting this, but I’m sure I can pull some strings if needs be. My father was second cousin to the General who is currently in charge of assignations. Speaking of second cousins, we are also host to a distant cousin of ours, Lady Emma Frost, whose house in London was destroyed in a bombing. I do not like this woman. She has always had a particular talent for imagining hurtful things to say to me and my sister – if it was just me I could take it, but I hate to see how she always finds a way to upset R. She should only be here for a month at the most, and I uncharitably cannot wait for her to go. The house is too full of others and too empty of you._

_Come home soon_

_Forevermore_

 

January 1916. He didn’t know when it started. Gradually, people started noticing he got things done more efficiently than most, and it didn’t take long to link that with his fluency in French – _and_ German, although he kept that a little closer to the chest. Before he knew it, he was the division’s translator and interpreter, which he didn’t mind, really, until Shaw personally asked for him.

 

_Love,_

_The content of my mail will be more closely looked at from now on as I became part of a smaller, more special team of people. I cannot tell you what it is we are doing exactly, only that the strategic significance of our work is high. One thing I can tell you is that this new assignment takes me out of the trenches, but at the same time is likely to put me in more direct danger occasionally. I am not telling you this to trouble you – although I know it is derisory to ask you not to worry – but I wanted you to know news might become scarce, and I don’t know how reliably I can receive your letters either, as I’ll be on the move more often. Be proud of me in the secret of your heart, and rest assured that my determination to survive and come back to you is just as strong, if not stronger now; we are doing everything we can to shorten this war. This is all I have time to write at the moment; just this before I put down my pen: the potential problem I mentioned in a previous letter did not recognize me. It enraged me at first, but I contained myself, and I am coming to terms with the fact that it might be more fortunate than offensive. I also realized I was less attached to my past now that I have a future. You will always be my future; you will always hold this special place in my heart. I’ll write more as soon as I can. I love you. E._

 

October 1916. In fact, those were the last words Charles received from Erik. He kept writing, until a bunch of letter attached together with a piece of string returned to him undelivered. On the move, he kept repeating to himself. Going places with his special team, places the rest of the general staff didn’t necessarily know about; of course mail wouldn’t reach him. Of course he saw Raven’s look of sadness and almost pity. Of course he heard about more casualties every day. But in his heart he didn’t believe there was cause for mourning. In his heart he remained convinced Erik was still alive.

He received a letter from Mr Cleaves, George’s father, to inform him the young man had fallen in action. Charles visited him personally to express the pain this news had caused him. He offered his condolences, and part of George’s wages if his family should need them. The old man thanked him profusely, held his hands and wept for a long time, but refused; it was just him, and he would go and live with his sister; she had lost her husband and her son as well, and they needed someone to take over the grocer’s shop they were keeping.

Darwin returned in March 1917 – on a stretcher and directly to the hospital. He had been in an explosion and was badly burnt, and it took time and patience for Hank, Raven and the rest of the team to make sure he would make it through, let alone to nurse him back to health. Alex was there a few months later, blinded by gas (temporarily, the doctors said), and as soon as he was able to distinguish basic shapes and differences in light patterns, i.e. to move around a little by himself, he spent three quarters of his time by Darwin’s bedside, holding his good hand and telling him about the rest of the world. The remaining quarter he would ask about him, and talk to Charles when he came around.

“I saw Mr Lehnsherr right before he left with his new team.” He told him one day – Charles never asked, but there was an unmistakable look in his eyes, which Alex understood now, because he looked at Darwin the same way, and looked the same when he was away. “It was all very cloak-and-dagger, but I asked around, pieced together a few things myself and I think I know what they were doing.”

“Please.” Charles encouraged him. “What was it?”

“Small strategic team with some of the best elements.” Alex explained. “I think they job was to strike deep, directly into the other side’s camps – not the trenches so much, but the key positions, the headquarters and else. Of course it implicated actually sneaking _behind_ enemy lines. Erik helped them with that because he could speak French, so he could ask for directions and get more sympathetic help form the French. But mostly because he was fluent in German with barely an accent. The other guys I think, two of them were excellent scouts, amazing at moving fast, discretely, noticing things. I heard one of them could draw you a detailed map after walking through an area once. And the two other guys – five of them in total, from what I understood – they created weapons. Nothing that could be serialized for the soldiers, but it served their particular purpose. Long range rifles, very lethal bombs, this kind of things. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. They were never in the same place for very long – but sure enough, once they were somewhere one night, you could be fairly sure we’d win the assault the next morning, and take back a few miles.”

Charles nodded, and said nothing, and Alex hesitantly risked a more personal comment.

“If he died...” He said carefully. “He did so being a great help towards the end of this war.”

Charles had a small smile, and rested a hand on Alex’s arm.

“You all were.” He said.

*

November 11th, 1918, 11:00AM. The whole household fell silent. Rows of children surrounded by their handful of teachers, Charles holding little Marie on his lap. Raven crushing Angel’s hand, for want of Hank’s, standing a few steps away. The staff, all statuses blurred, standing side by side with Lady Frost and Lady Moira. Alex by Darwin, who sat in a wheelchair matching Charles, and Scott, no longer a little boy, with a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

They kept silent for a minute. For George, killed by a shot in the chest, and the millions who had died. For Darwin, still recovering from his burns, and the millions whose future had been maimed. For Simon, and Sean, still looking for a way home, and the millions who were far from their loved ones. For Alex, and the millions who had survived and made it back. For Erik, and the millions who had disappeared. For the women and children, for the widows and orphans, for the lost lovers and the broken hearts.

*

A few weeks later there was someone for Charles. Mason walked in during a class – it would take a while until the hospital had little enough patients to move back into its former facilities, and Charles was readily letting the school use the mansion for as long as they needed. And as much as he choked with tears at night when he was alone, he needed something to keep his mind occupied during the day.

“Sorry for interrupting, My Lord.” Mason apologized. “But I thought this was important. The gentleman at the door says he was sent by Mr Lehnsherr, and I know he was a good friend of your Lordship’s.”

Charles’s heart obviously tried to leap right out of his chest, and crashed against his ribcage instead, going by the sharp pain he suddenly experienced. He needed a moment to catch his breath before he could thank Mason, pale as death, and ask him to show the gentleman into the parlour. He excused himself to the children, dismissing the class early, and wheeled himself – with difficulty, because his arms were trembling and numb – to the parlour.

The man was strong, seemingly undiminished by the war he had quite obviously fought, dressed in something leather that looked half aviator, half customised military uniform. He fiddled with an unlit cigar, but stilled his hand when Charles came in.

“My Lord.” He threw in a tone that did not express the least respect. It was more an acknowledgment of what he was supposed to say.

“Charles, please.” Charles offered, mouth dry.

“Logan.” The other man answered. “I was told to come here for Erik Lehnsherr’s family?”

“I...He...Yes.” Charles stumbled. “We’re his family. Figuratively speaking.” He added as Logan raised a brow. “Is he...”

“Oh he’s alive.” The man waved his cigar. “Luckiest bastard I’ve ever met. In fact I think the five of us owe him our lives. But, yeah, none in our little team is in one piece, however.” He raised his arms, showing a mosaic of wounds. “I have shrapnel incrusted in my _bones_ , if you’d believe it. One of our guys has been so badly exposed to some chemicals and stuff that his skin turned red. Anyhow. Erik’s at London 3rd General Hospital. He’s mostly okay, but his body is exhausted and he has a minor lung and throat infection. He can barely speak, but he wrote this address, and one of the only things he says is your name. I was taking him here actually, Colonel Shaw offered to take us all to his place to rest, but I’m an independent guy, and Erik really wanted to come home, so I offered my help. We thought he would make it, but we had to stop on the way. He really pushed himself beyond his limits, he must have-... Hey, are you all right? You look like you might faint.”

Charles took one or two steadying breathes. “Did you...did you drive here?” He asked. He’d seen a car in the alley through the window, thinking at first it might be Hank’s.

“Yeah.” Logan confirmed. “Present from the general staff. Janos was promised a laboratory for further chemical experiments – he’s the guy who made our bombs. Blasted things. Erik got a promotion, he’s a Captain.”

“Could you take me to the hospital?” Charles asked tensely.

The man frowned. “It’s a four-hour drive.” He said. “I left last night, I slept midway.”

“Could you?” Charles insisted.

“I don’t mind personally, but you’re not going to be very comfortable.” Logan moderated. “It’s a piece of junk car.”

“I don’t care.” Charles’s voice broke. “I need to see him.”

“Oh.” Logan mouthed softly. “Yeah.” He said after a short pause. “Sure, yeah. I’ll take you.”

Charles called for Scott, who was still helping around, sort of seconding Alex until he was fully recovered, told him to warn Raven – away working at the hospital – that he would be away, maybe for a few days, that he’d telephone to let her know about his exact plans when he knew more about them. He declined Mason’s offer to accompany him, and in a matter of twenty minutes he had a small bag ready and was sitting in Logan’s car with his chair at the back.

They drove silently for about an hour. Charles could see Logan steal glances at him from the corner of his eye, and he seemed to decide himself to speak when Charles had gradually relaxed, when his jaw wasn’t so clenched and his fist so tight.

“To be honest, I thought it was your sister.” The man said.

Charles turned to him, wondering what Raven had to do with this. “Sorry?”

Logan shrugged. “Erik never said much about himself. But the man was half dead of exhaustion and yet he kept going, to be back to that house of yours as soon as possible? It was obvious to me _someone_ there was more than friend or family. I thought it was your sister.”

Charles shook his head slowly, seeing no purpose he denying what Logan had guessed. “I’m a friend.” The latter said gruffly, but reassuringly. “I don’t care what he does in his intimacy. And...” He eyed Charles and had a little smile. “I can see the attraction.”

“Thank you.” Charles commented, feeling a little uncomfortable.

*

The nurse told them Erik had slept for sixteen hours straight, and was feeling much better. His infection was clearing away, and he had even managed to eat a little. Charles wanted to ask more questions, but his heart seemed to be stuck in his throat, and beating hard. Logan laid a hand on his shoulder, and asked the young woman if they could see him.

“Of course.” She smiled. There were enough wounded men in this hospital with nobody to claim them.

Erik was pale and thin against the pillows, eyes closed – he wasn’t sleeping, as he opened them when he heard them approach his bed. Emotions washed over him, showing in the lines of his face. Surprise. Gratitude. Love.

“Charles.” He murmured, and a smile, the softest smile, stretched his cracked lips.

Overwhelmed, Charles fought hard to bite back a sob, and managed to mirror Erik’s smile instead. They looked at each other, and words didn’t need to be spoken.

“Welcome back.” Charles simply said.


	4. Forevermore

_And as the world comes to an end I’ll be here to hold your hand_

_(Of Monsters And Men, “King And Lionheart”)_

 

Charles spent a week in London, unable to bring himself to part from Erik again, until it was safe to move him from there to the hospital nearest to his home. He wanted to settle him into a room in the house itself, but Raven advised against it – not for the sake of discretion, she couldn’t care less about that since she had basically decided in her heart to marry Doctor Hank McCoy, who was happy to oblige. She hadn’t needed to confess anything to him either; the minute he’d seen Charles bring back Erik, he had understood, and accepted the plain reality. He was a man of no prejudice and very little judgements.

“The house is still swarming with children.” Raven said. “Hank explained to me that Erik’s immune system is very fragile, he needs to get his strength back. The smallest kid with a running nose could give him germs that he would not be able to fight against.”

So Charles spent hours every day by Erik’s bedside; and when the children went home for Christmas, he was able to move this bedside right above his head in his house. By then, Erik was valid enough to get up and walk, and they resumed their chess games. Charles made Erik laugh with stories of his teaching adventures. He didn’t speak about how much he had missed him. Erik almost made Charles cry with stories of his dreams of him. He didn’t speak about the war – he only told Charles a little about Shaw.

“I don’t think he ever knew who I was.” He explained. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure he actually knew my name back when I was working for him. We operated closely together during the war. I saved his life, and he saved mine. Everything got a little blurred.”

“It’s okay.” Charles offered. “You can let go of the past. Don’t forget, but let go. You’re here now.”

“With you.” Erik smiled.

“Forevermore.” Charles replied.

*

Erik had never talked extensively with Raven, and although he considered them to be friends, he was surprised when she knocked on the door of his room one evening after supper, after Charles had gone to bed. Erik was reading, and told her to come in. She was in her night gown, with her hair cascading down her shoulders, and she looked more vulnerable than usual.

“Sorry for intruding.” She said in ways of introduction.

“No problem.” Erik said.

“I just wanted to...I wanted to offer you to stay here.” She said. “I know you’re almost back to your full health, and you’re considering going back to work at the factory. Of course you can, you have every right to, but I would like you to consider living here.”

Erik frowned. “Do you think this is reasonable?”

“Well, Moira is still living here, and I’m telling you this girl will marry Simon, but her parents won’t let him into their home, so she’ll probably become a permanent resident. Angel and Sean’s home was destroyed so I’ll offer them rooms too, Sean is not fit to go back to work yet. What I’m saying is, it’s not going to be suspicious, you can be with Charles inside this house without anyone saying anything about it. We’re already the atypical, non-commendable house anyway. Not that we care about what our class thinks of us; the people living on our land love us, and we have a devoted staff.”

Erik raised a hand with a little smile so she would stop listing all the reasons why it wouldn’t be a problem.

“I’m very grateful for the offer.” He said. “But are you sure this is the best thing for Charles?”

Raven opened her eyes wide and blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Well.” Erik cocked his head. “You’re the one asking me to stay here, not him.”

Raven shook her head in disbelief. “Are you honestly doubting his love for you?”

“No.” Erik replied firmly. “Never. But... I have been away for four years. He evolved, he’s a teacher now, he has a lot of people around him, it’s not like when we first met and you two only had each other. I’ve seen how he loves being with the children. He could marry. He could have a wife and kids of his own.”

“Erik.” Raven huffed. “Charles wants _you_. You are the only one he will ever want, with all his heart, but he’ll never ask you to stay. You know how he is. He still sees himself as a burden half the time, and he’ll never demand of you that you commit to be stuck with him for the rest of your life. I know that’s not how you think of the situation. But that’s how much he loves you. He knows you are a free spirit and he’s ready to let you go have a life without him if that’s the life you want.”

“I will never want a life without him.” Erik said. “But that’s what I’m saying, he could have a better life without me.” Erik tried to argue. “If he’s ready to let me go, he’d forget me eventually. He could marry.” He insisted. “And I don’t know about the logistics, but he could always adopt, the war has made lots of orphans, he’d be so happy with children of his own...”

“Are you serious?” Raven repeated, controlling herself so she didn’t shout. “He would _never_ forget you. He would be miserable and alone for the rest of his life – oh, hey, just like he was before he met you! _You_ are the best, damn me, you are the _only_ good thing that ever happened to him, Erik. How can you think he’d have a better life without you?”

“Forgive me.” Erik said softly. “But I have seen what the war has done to the country. And then there is here. The house is bright, lively, the shadow of your abusive parents is long gone, there are children everywhere, you are in love... Charles looks well.”

“Yes, he does.” Raven acknowledged, surprisingly sounding like she was proving a point – hers, not Erik’s. “He’s _glowing_. Funny fact though, you know when was the last time I saw him so happy? Four years ago. You think there might be a correlation here?”

Erik lost the remnants of his confidence, and shot Raven a forlorn little-boy look. “He’s...he’s not been well?”

“No, he’s not been well.” Raven shook her head. “You’re fooling yourself if you think that smile has been waiting for you here during the war. You took it with you. And I know, I know he kept a good front in his letters, but you must realize he’s been minimizing, right?”

“He told me he had nightmares.” Erik remembered.

“Nightmares, yes.” Raven shuddered at the memory. “He shut them out, thank God, because I never, ever want to hear him scream like that again. It didn’t stop him from crying himself to sleep every night. He was very weak for the first months, he had a hard time coping with the loss.”

“I was just away.” Erik noted. “I wasn’t dead.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “You were away to _war_. Promises are very nice, faith and hope can go far enough, but he’s a rational, realistic man, and he was scared out of his mind. Every letter he feared was going to announce your death. He fell ill during the second winter.”

“Yes, he told me.” Erik remembered.

“Did he tell you he almost died?”

“He…” Erik swallowed hard. “Not like that, no.”

“Look.” Raven resumed more gently. “I know you’ve been through hell, I mean, you were the one in the trenches, and I absolutely do not intend to belittle that. But you have to know how hard it was on Charles. And you have to know you are all he needs to be all right.”

Erik wiped a solitary tear on his cheek. “Point taken.” He murmured.

*

“I think I am fully recovered.” Erik announced that morning, while they were enjoying a few rays of the winter sun in the park. He moved his arms, his head, probed his chest with his hands. “I feel stronger.”

“Yes.” Charles smiled, as if Erik had just said _I am magnificent_ and he was confirming. “Hank said the infection completely cleared out.”

“You know what that means?” Erik smiled.

Without leaving him time to answer, Erik braced himself on the arms of the chair and captured Charles’s mouth with his. Charles arms flew around his neck immediately, pulling him closer, kissing him like it was the very first time, like it was the very last. They had both held back for weeks – not to mention the years before that – to make sure they wouldn’t give each other bad germs, upon Hank’s discreet recommendation.  

“God, Erik.” Charles said breathlessly, barely moving away from the man’s lips – and essentially pulling him back for more kissing every three words. “You are kissing me- in full view- of any passerby-”

“Excuse me.” Erik smiled, pulling away just a little, pressing his forehead against Charles’s. “But I think you’ll find that _you_ are kissing _me_.”

“Willow tree?” Charles breathed out.

“Willow tree.” Erik approved. He pushed Charles’s chair forward. “I’m afraid the weather will be a little cold for me to undress you this time.” He said regretfully.

“I just want to kiss you until I can’t breathe.” Charles replied. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to sneak into my room later. You live here now, don’t you?”

The tone had started playful, but Erik heard the concern creeping into Charles’s voice. Erik had never said anything about not staying, but they hadn’t actually discussed it – and Raven was right, Charles never asked anything, never even brought it up, until now.

“Yes, love.” Erik answered tenderly. “I live here now.”

*

The Spanish flu epidemic isolated them a little bit more from the rest of the world. At first, because a reduced number of comings and goings would lessen the threat of contamination. Then, because time passed and it appeared nobody in the house was getting sick. Between themselves they called it a miracle. Others (but all in all, mostly the same upper-class people who already looked disapprovingly at their choice of friends) accused that it had more to do with Satan than with God. Moira broke ties with her family irremediably around that time, and she officially became engaged to Simon, who asked Charles to help him find a house in which they could live when they were married. They agreed to wait for the epidemic to die down before they fully invested themselves in the research. Unlike many a noble family (some of which had kept the pretence of friendship so far) who severed all connections with them, very few of the farmers and merchants from whom they bought goods let them down. Sean reported a conversation he heard at the marketplace, one time he was out for supplies with Allie, the kitchen maid – he was obviously silly for the girl and lost no occasion to help her out.

“You are dooming yourself.” An old bigot lady told the fishmonger who was handing Allie her order. “Trading with those children of the Devil!”

The man calmly wiped his hands on his apron, and retorted in an even voice.

“Yes.” He said. “Lord Charles and Lady Raven are children of the Devil indeed. Right?” He turned around to call the other merchants as witnesses. “We all remember Lord Xavier. Now _that_ man was the Devil. That man was cruel, to everyone, and not least to his own offspring.” Murmurs of approbation and a few insults came from the crowd. “Yet those kids? They are _good_. I think that’s more important than to follow all the rules they’re supposed to follow in them big houses. They are benevolent, they are kind. And they turned out so in spite of that father of theirs. Five years this man has been dead, and he still scares the little ones in their beds. So hey-” He bagged a few extra pieces of seafood and handed them to Allie. “On the house.” He said. “For our Lord Charles. Child of the Devil. Good man.”

And more than one merchant around them cheered and clapped.

“Devils breeding angels.” Erik said softly when Charles told him about it. “This is the one thing I’ll forever be grateful to your parents for.”

*

Moira and Simon had a small, private wedding in the chapel nearest to the Xavier house, with the reception in the front garden – right there when he’d first met Erik, Charles thought as he was supervising the preparations. Only close friends, and for family, an aunt and cousin who had not shunned Moira for her choice of husband. It was a lovely, intimate celebration, and it felt like the first breath of fresh air since the end of the war and the flu epidemic. Although the household had been spared by that second blow – Scott had been ill for a few days, but he’d come out on top – they knew many people who’d lost a loved one. Now at last it was starting to feel like life may go on again, and that they had a right to pursue happiness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Moira look so blissful.” Charles told Erik during the party after the ceremony. He was sitting were Erik had found him for the first time, a little apart, shaded from the summer sun. “Look at her.”

Simon was dancing with her so enthusiastically her feet didn’t touch the ground half the time, and she could hardly breathe for all she was laughing.

“Why is it that the things we want most are the things society doesn’t approve of?” He wondered pensively. “Moira is marrying the man she loves with all her heart. But because they’re not from the same class, that makes them inappropriate pariahs?”

“Maybe.” Erik said. “But that’s not important. They’re our friends. They will always be welcome here, Simon will always find work in the area, because anyone who lives close to here cannot help but love you and everything you touch, and they’re not harming anyone. So society can say what it wants, and in the meantime they can be together.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile. “You know you kind of just described us.”

“Yes, I know.” Erik smiled. “I never saw that in my future.” He gestured at Moira and Simon. “Marriage, children. I knew I would never have all that. I didn’t mind, I’m a lone wolf, I always pictured myself spending and finishing my life alone and independent. I didn’t dislike the idea.” He turned to look straight at Charles. “Until I met you. And now I see what a fool I’ve been, thinking I didn’t need anyone.”

“And...” Charles frowned. “Now you want marriage and children?” He asked, a little confusedly.

“I want you.” Erik said. “As long as I can spend my life with you, the rest is accessory. But, I have to say...” He looked around. Moira and Simon, Raven holding Hank’s hand, Sean talking to Alex and Darwin – in all probability about Allie – and Angel helping Mrs Bateman bring the desserts. “It feels nice to have a family again.” Erik smiled. “If you want to abduct one or two of those children you teach to, I won’t be against it.”

Charles laughed, and Erik took his hand into his, kissed it, and didn’t let go. His eyes were shining so brightly that Charles let him. In the meantime they could be together.

*

Raven and Hank waited for the winter to get married. For one, because it would be Charles birthday – thirty years old. It did something to Charles to reach this benchmark.

“I remember when I turned ten.” He told Erik. “Back then I didn’t think I would live that long. I hoped I wouldn’t.”

Erik remembered the untold stories of Charles’s suicide contemplations. He didn’t bring it up. “And now?” He asked instead.

“Now?” Charles smiled. “Now I hope I’ll live twice as long. Three times as long. But I don’t know where time went. With all that happened, the war, the flu, everything; it feels like the last seven years just flashed past. I feel like I’m just getting to know you.”

“Well.” Erik reminded quietly. “We only spent the last two and a half of those seven years getting to know each other.”

“I feel like the world grew older very fast.” Charles added in a philosophical tone. “I was born in 1891, and now here we are. In a different century.”

“Then we have a century to know each other.” Erik said. “To love each other.”

“Optimistic.” Charles smiled. “But you’re right. There’s no point living in the past.”

So Charles accepted a brother-in-law as a birthday present. The second reason Raven set the date in December was that she absolutely wanted to turn the house and garden into a winter wonderland. They redecorated everything in white and silver, placing little Christmas trees at every corner, stars and moons and white flowers. It was beautiful; and when Raven came down the stairs that morning her white dress and her river of blond hair, Charles swore he stopped breathing. He felt like someone had planted a hook in his heart, and tugged with each step his sister took. He placed a hand over his mouth, overwhelmed by emotion suddenly. Raven didn’t lose her smile – it lit up the entire hall – but he headed right towards him, and embraced him with a little broken laugh.

“I still love you the most.” She whispered. “I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you.”

It was true, in a way. Since Hank’s work kept him in the village, they saw no point in leaving the house, and although Hank felt nowhere close to a position from which he could give order to the staff, he had accepted to live here as one of the masters of the house. He was so awkward and deferent about it that Alex had even come to tease him every so often – sometimes earning himself a warning look from Charles, but not much else. What with his devotion and friendliness, with the ordeals of the war during which Charles had been almost a surrogate brother to Scott, Alex had become part of the family, feeling even closer to the upstairs than the rest of the staff.

“I’m just helping him feel part of the household.” He defended himself about Hank.

“He’s marrying my sister.” Charles had answered with a laugh. “I think that will do the trick.”

And so was Raven ready to head for the chapel, looking so beautiful Charles thought he might cry. And so was Raven saying _I will_ , looking so happy Charles thought he might laugh out loud. And so was Raven dancing in the snowy decor, looking like an ice princess, looking so alive, looking eternal. Charles closed his eyes to hold the vision under his eyelids. He opened them again when he felt the presence of Erik, returning from a dance with Angel. He smiled to him before he looked back at Raven – the vision had barely changed, and Charles felt quite certain this look of pure happiness would actually take a long time to fade.

“When I think she offered to marry you.” He said tenderly.

“She what?” Erik frowned.

“Right, I never told you.” Charles kept smiling. “Before the war. She knew at once that I was in love with you. And when she started to see that you felt the same way about me, she offered to marry you, so you and I could be together. Could live in the same house unsuspected.”

“She…wow.” Erik appreciated. “That would have felt wrong. No offence, and it’s such a wonderfully selfless thing to suggest, but I can’t imagine marrying your sister. It would have been completely bogus.”

“I agree.” Charles said. “And…” He looked at Raven again, locked in an embrace with Hank. “I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” He looked back at his lover, painfully serious. “Erik, I love you more than I can account for, but if I had to forsake her happiness to keep you, I would not hesitate. I can bear my own heart breaking. Not hers.”

“Only it wouldn’t be just your heart breaking.” Erik commented almost inaudibly.

Charles nearly wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard, but his mouth twitched, and Erik sighed.

“I can’t believe you.” He said, half-amused. “After all this time, you still think I could find someone better than you, don’t you?” He leaned in, supporting himself on the arms of the chair. “Whatever can I do at night to make you understand you’re the only one for me?” He whispered.

Charles blushed – Erik still had that power over him. They slept in the same room almost every night, even if sex wasn’t always on the menu; Charles very much liked to be held. And when sex _was_ on the menu, if Charles was honest, it was truly amazing; even more so as Erik seemed to think the same. Charles great worry had been to not be able to give him any satisfaction. And they weren’t so afraid of getting caught now. Mason’s arm had gotten worse with a particularly damp and cold winter, and Alex had taken over the position as Charles’s valet. He had approached Charles one day, timidly, after a few weeks in his new position maybe, to tell him that he knew what the looks him and Erik were exchanging meant – not to mention the time he had walked in on them, all those years ago –  and that he wouldn’t say anything if he found them in the same bed. That he could come in a bit early and wake Erik so he would go back to his own room before the rest of the household stirred. Not that the rest of the household didn’t suspect anything, most of the staff wasn’t stupid, but as long as Charles thought they were being discreet (he really didn’t realized the intensity of those look they exchanged) nobody would say a word about it. When Charles asked him if he really wasn’t troubled about it – guessing wasn’t quite the same as being part of the secret – Alex had a little smile.

“Darwin and I became close during the war, fighting side by side and everything.” He said simply. “Very close.”

“Told you.” Erik said when Charles reported the conversation.

*

Come summer, Moira’s stomach was rounding up, and they were discussing where to put the nursery. She and Simon had found a lovely cottage, but it needed reparations to be fully suitable for all seasons, so they would probably be here until the baby arrived and for the few months after the birth. The school had gone back to its original location, and Charles couldn’t hide that he felt a little bit of regret not having children around anymore – so he talked nursery, but also classrooms.

“What?” He defended himself when Moira gave him a look. “This child will need to be educated. And I suspect he or she is not going to be an only child for very long. And there will be Raven’s children. I can’t teach them if we don’t have a classroom!”

“Well…” Moira said hesitantly. “Simon was saying he’d like to send our children to school, actually. The village school. With other children.”

“Oh.” Charles reacted. “Yes, that makes sense. Sorry, I assumed…I’m overbearing.”

“No.” Moira said with a kind smile. “You loved being a teacher, and you miss it. I understand.” And Charles could never have children of his own, and they both knew that. And they both left it unspoken. Moira cleared her throat awkwardly. “Maybe you could still teach, you know? At the actual school?”

Charles shook his head. “It would be complicated. I couldn’t be gone all day, there’s too much to be done here.”

“Hank could help.” Moira noted.

“He does.” Charles said. “But he’s not too good at managing the estate yet. And he has his own work, which is important, he’s not here that much during the day. Half the time Raven is with him helping out as a nurse, so that leaves me. And if I’m honest…” He had an embarrassed and slightly smug expression.  “It’s rather satisfying to be doing something my father thought I was never going to be good enough to do. And I’m doing it well too. Our balances are good, and, well, I won’t bore you with the details. As much as I loved teaching, this is what I must do.”

Moira remained silent for a moment, before she breached the related topic. “The war made a lot of orphans.” She said cautiously.

Charles shook his head. He had thought of that too. “I can’t make this house an orphanage.” He said. “We’d be in far over our heads, and we have the funds to stay afloat, not to create. And it wouldn’t seem fair to…pick one.”

“But you cannot give a home to every orphan in the country anyway.” Moira argued. “So why not offer a chance to some of them?”

“How?” Charles asked pointedly. “By going to an orphanage and select a child or two like it’s a marketplace? Sorry, but I cannot bring myself to do that.”

“But if you had a connection to the child?” Moira asked. “Would you raise him or her?”

“Of course.” Charles said. “I would have taken Scott in as my own brother if Alex hadn’t come back, for example.” He frowned then, seeing the look on Moira’s face – she was beating about the bush, afraid to say what really was on her mind. “Why do you ask?” Charles wondered.

Moira took a deep breath in. “Charles…” she said, still hesitant. “If…if anything happens to us, I want you to take care of my baby.” She placed a hand over her belly protectively. “Simon has a sister, but they’re not very close. And don’t let him go to my parents.”

Charles looked at her with a little surprise, but then he smiled, and reached a hand out to her. “Of course.” He repeated with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll say the same thing to him, or her, when they’re old, and I’m even older. Take care of your old uncle Charles.”

“I’m sure.” Moira laughed.

*

Unexpectedly, Moira’s baby (she was convinced to her core it was a son) was not the first child to settle in the new nursery. She was close to her due date when, one morning, a woman visited asking to see Erik. It was his day off, and she had been redirected here from the factory. She had only one small bag with her – and two kids. They looked about four or five years old, a little boy and a little girl, and they stood behind their mother (assumedly) quietly holding each other’s hand.

“Erik!” The woman broke into a bright smile when she saw him come out of the house. She flung herself in his arms and he hugged her back, letting out an incredulous laugh.

“Madga!” He greeted her. “What are you doing here?”

She stepped back, smiling widely. “I brought the children.” She said, pointing back at the two little ones. “Children.” She addressed them. “Say hello to your father!”

Everyone stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide, as the two kids complied to a “Hello, father” directed at Erik. He was the first to recover.

“Magda…what are you saying?”

“They’re your children.” She kept smiling. “Don’t you recognize them? Well, they grew up. They’ll be five in April, you never forget their birthday.”

“It’s true, I never do.” Erik said completely naturally. “Hello children. Let’s all get inside. Alex, would you ask Mrs Bateman for some tea, please?”

“Sure.” Alex blinked twice, not completely sure what had just happened. He patted Charles shoulder in a clumsy attempt at comfort on his way in. Charles’s was gripping his wheels so strongly his knuckles had gone white. He stayed completely still as Erik ushered everyone in, signalling Mason to take them into the drawing room as he stayed behind.

“You have children?” Charles asked expressionlessly before Erik could say anything.

“I don’t think I do.” Erik answered. “Because I haven’t seen Madga in over ten years. I’m worried.”

Sympathy and concern found their way back in Charles’s eyes. “Is she…ill?” He asked. “Mentally?”

“She wasn’t.” Erik shook his head. “Which is why I’m worried.”

Charles reached for him, and rubbed a reassuring thumb on the back his hand. “Let’s see what story she tells.” He said kindly.

The story Madga told was very simple. Erik was the father of her twins, and there wasn’t a doubt about it in her mind. He was the only man she’d ever been with – now she wasn’t that proud of it, because it was out of wedlock, but they had sincerely planned on getting married, hadn’t they? Then she’d had to go and work in the city, but in her heart, she was just married to Erik anyway. He was the only man she’d ever been with.

When she went out to get refreshed, Erik leaned towards Charles with a broken look on his face. “I think she’s telling the truth.” He whispered. The children were playing with a little wooden horse on the ground, babbling and arguing quietly. “She was in love with me; I pretended I didn’t know, but… I don’t think she’s lying about being with no other man.”

Charles cast them a curious look. “So you fathered children five or six years before they were born?” He said. “That’s powerful.”

“No.” Erik sighed. “She’s in denial. I think…” He looked down, shaking his head slowly. “She was probably abused during the war. She convinced herself they were mine, so she wouldn’t have to face reality.”

“Oh, God.” Charles murmured. “Are you sure?”

“That’s the most likely explanation.” Erik confirmed. “She changed since I last saw her. Something in her seems…broken. The flame in her eyes is gone, she’s-”

He was cut short by the sound of a gunshot. He sprung up, and Charles watched him run out of the room wishing he could do the same. Instead he saw the look on the twins’ little faces, and he opened his arms for them to take shelter. They hung on to him like children who had lost their mother a long time ago, long before she shot a bullet straight through her skull.

Alex helped Erik clean up the blood upstairs – or maybe Erik helped Alex. Charles never saw the scene; he set on organizing the funeral. Raven tried to take the twins under her wing, but they seemed to prefer clinging to Charles – and they asked about Erik roughly every ten minutes. Charles suspected their mother to have talked of little else. Erik showed him the note she’d left, later that night, when he joined him in his room.

_No more. I am sorry, Erik. Take care of Pietro and Wanda. I love them so much. Take care of your children._

Charles only took Erik in his arms, kissed his forehead and rocked him gently until he fell asleep.

*

They couldn’t have loved the twins more if they were their own. Charles thought he could cry the first time they picked up a book and climbed on his lap, completely unbothered by the chair, to ask him to read it out to them. They didn’t want to think too much about the first year of their lives; given the way they sought the smallest sliver of affection, they suspected they had been dire. Charles and Raven pledged in their hearts they would never let them have the childhood their own parents had given them.

“Look at them.” Charles said to Erik, looking at Pietro chasing Wanda around on the lawn. “The house is finally alive again. I don't know if there was even ever a time in this house when you could hear the sound of children playing. I can’t remember.”

“Then don’t try.” Erik smiled at him. “Childhood was a failed step for you. But you have parenthood to focus on now, and you are doing a brilliant job.”

“I’m not doing much.” Charles smiled back modestly. “They are fascinated with each other.”

“You are a great father.” Erik insisted. “And those kids needed one. They needed exactly what you are giving them, Charles, what you gave me too. A home.”

“Give yourself some credit.” Charles replied amusedly. “You are as much their father as I am. Even more so, since they’re officially yours.”

They had invented the story of a distant cousin of Charles whom Erik had allegedly married and lost to the Spanish flu. It justified Erik’s staying in the house, and the presence of the twins. Every member of the staff had agreed to keep the secret, thinking it was a much better story than the blood spatter in the little bathroom, which Lucy still refused to clean on her own. The whole thing could sound a bit fishy, but they expected the questionings to die down once the new generation was well under way with additions from Moira and Raven.

They never expected Moira’s line to stop at one.

*

Although David called him nothing but Father, Charles never lied to him about his parentage. As soon as the little boy was able to understand, Charles explained why he didn’t have a mother – David then looked at Raven, well alive playing with Kurt, with a sort of fascination, like she was super-human for having survived childbirth – and what had happened to his real father – David then swore he would never do politics and would try not to say things that made people mad enough to want to kill him. It took him a few more years to figure that Pietro and Wanda were not his actual brother and sister, but they left the real explanation of their mother’s death for a little later, and stuck with the flu and Erik being their dad, and the lot of them being a family no matter what.

“Is Kurt family too?” David asked. Charles was teaching him to play chess, and could hardly see the top half of his head behind the board, the boy having refused any cushions to prop him up on the armchair, _because Pietro doesn’t need them_. Not least because the older child had taken absolutely no liking for chess, but that didn’t dampen David’s determination.

“Of course.” Charles said. “He is your cousin. Because Raven is my sister.”

“Who’s his father?” David asked, sliding down to look at the patterns in the carpet. He was an odd child, always seemingly living a whole parallel life in his head.

“It’s Hank.” Charles answered, frowning. “Raven’s husband, your uncle Hank.”

“No.” David said. “They’re not the same colour.”

“What are you talking about?” Charles smiled amusedly at his son. “Just because Kurt’s hair is a little darker doesn’t mean Hank is not his dad. Raven’s hair is blond, so that’s not a good argument, don’t you think?”

David said nothing more, but Charles saw a strange certainty in his eyes, and it got him thinking. Feeling foolish, he found Raven to have a word about it with her.

“It’s probably stupid.” He said. “But David said something about how dark Kurt’s hair is...”

To his surprise, Raven blushed violently. “Oh, Lord.” She moaned. “If your five year-old lunatic son is able to see it, I have to talk to Hank.”

“Don’t call my son a lunatic.” Charles reproached. Then the rest of the words made their way to his brain, and his eyes widened. “What?” He breathed.

Raven sighed profoundly. She looked miserable. “I cheated on him _once_.” She confessed. “Once. But it was enough. And...Hank loves Kurt so much, even when he wasn’t yet born he loved him so much, I couldn’t... I just hoped it would be his, but it’s becoming more and more apparent he’s not...”

“What happened?” Charles asked, not quite believing his ears.

“Remember when Angel and I went to London for a few weeks?” Raven said, looking down shamefully. “We visited a small theatre to talk with the owner, and there was one guy who performed there. Magic and illusions and stuff – really, it was impressive. And his skin was red.”

“Red?” Charles frowned.

“Something from the war, I didn’t really ask.” Raven shrugged. “But he was...attractive, in a very exotic and devilish way. I succumbed.”

“I think Erik knows him.” Charles said wryly. “The man who came here and drove me to him to the hospital, Logan, he mentioned a member of their team whose skin turned red because of chemicals.”

Raven remained silent for a while before she commented on that, carefully. “Let’s assume that this didn’t happen to just one man. Let’s say it’s not the same man and Erik doesn’t know him at all. I would like to pretend the biological father of my child is absolutely nowhere to be found. It will be hard enough on Hank.”

“I understand.” Charles nodded. “I won’t mention it.”

Raven sighed. “Am I a horrible person?” She lamented. “Hank is the best man I have ever met. I love him. Yet I did this to him.”

“Mistakes make us human.” Charles said softly. “Forgiveness does too.”

“Do you forgive me?” His sister asked expectantly.

“It’s not for me to forgive you.” Charles shook his head. “You did not wrong me. And it would be hypocritical of me to preach virtue and keep living in sin.”

Raven’s eyebrows shot up. “Sin? Is that what you think you’re doing?”

“That’s what everyone else thinks.” Charles justified. “Would think. If they knew. Sharing my bed with a man and raising other people’s children? What else would you call it?”

“Love.” Raven answered. “We’ve never been very pious, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a sin.”

Charles half-smiled, perceiving exactly what was left unspoken. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” He told her. “Hank is besotted with you. And like you said, he loves Kurt. He’ll forgive you. Just be honest with him, without justifying yourself.”

“I’ll hurt him.” Raven looked down.

“Yes.” Charles confirmed. “But then you can heal together.”

Raven lifted her eyes, glistening with tears, and looked at Charles’s chair. “But some things don’t heal.” She said in a broken voice.

“If you’re referring to my legs, they’re healed.” Charles replied very seriously. “I’m loved. I can give pleasure to the man I love. I can take my children on my lap and cross the whole park with them if I want to. That’s all the function I need. I stopped regretting my losses a long time ago, I stopped aching for more. I’m healed.”

Raven let out a laugh that was half a sob, and hugged her brother – after all these years Charles still wondered at how she always found a way to not make the embrace awkward although he was sitting in a wheelchair. “I’m glad you feel that way.” She whispered. “God, we’ve come such a long way. We were children just a moment ago.”

“I’m glad we’re not anymore.” Charles confessed. “You were the only thing I had back then. And you were enough. In our little world, you were enough.”

“But not anymore.” Raven concluded with a smile.

“Not anymore.” Charles repeated.

 

_And will never be any more perfection than there is now,_

_Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now_

_(Walt Whitman, “Song Of Myself”)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end :)


End file.
